"I can't deny we _are_ out of the mountain, and I should be very ungrateful indeed to deny that _you_ had brought _me_ out of it." "I couldn't have done it but for the thread," persisted Irene. "That's the part I don't understand." "Well, come along, and Lootie will get you something to eat. I am sure you must want it very much." "Indeed I do. But my father and mother will be so anxious about me, I must make haste--first up the mountain to tell my mother, and then down into the mine again to acquaint my father." "Very well, Curdie; but you can't get out without coming this way, and I will take you through the house, for that is nearest." They met no one by the way, for indeed, as before, the people were here and there and everywhere searching for the princess. When they got in, Irene found that the thread, as she had half expected, went up the old staircase, and a new thought struck her. She turned to Curdie and said-- "My grandmother wants me. Do come up with me, and see her. Then you will know that I have been telling you the truth. Do come--to please me, Curdie. I can't bear you should think I say what is not true." "I never doubted you believed what you said," returned Curdie. "I only thought you had some fancy in your head that was not correct." "But do come, dear Curdie." The little miner could not withstand this appeal, and though he felt shy in what seemed to him such a huge grand house, he yielded, and followed her up the stair. CHAPTER XXII THE OLD LADY AND CURDIE UP the stair then they went, and the next and the next, and through the long rows of empty rooms, and up the little tower stairs, Irene growing happier and happier as she ascended. There was no answer when she knocked at length at the door of the workroom, nor could she hear any sound of the spinning-wheel, and once more her heart sank within her--but only for one moment, as she turned and knocked at the other door. "Come in," answered the sweet voice of her grandmother, and Irene opened the door and entered, followed by Curdie. "You darling!" cried the lady, who was seated by a fire of red roses mingled with white--"I've been waiting for you, and indeed getting a little anxious about you, and beginning to think whether I had not better go and fetch you myself." As she spoke she took the little princess in her arms and placed her upon her lap. She was dressed in white now, and looking if possible more lovely than ever. "I've brought Curdie, grandmother. He wouldn't believe what I told him, and so I've brought him." "Yes--I see him. He is a good boy, Curdie, and a brave boy. Aren't you glad you have got him out?" "Yes, grandmother. But it wasn't very good of him not to believe me when I was telling him the truth." "People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less. I doubt if you would have believed it all yourself if you hadn't seen some of it."