Now opposite her bed were three pictures, coloured and framed. One was of a dainty Columbine smiling at her companion picture--a Harlequin who stood on his toes with feet crossed, and his arms folded over his staff; and the pair set her wondering what she would see at the promised pantomime. Between them hung Minna's favourite picture. It represented a fine old moated house covered with snow. On the white path which led from the portico were tracks of little feet, manifestly made by the little smiling girl who stood in the act of passing over the bridge that spanned the moat. She appeared to be the same age as Minna, about six years old, and was dressed in a red pelisse and fur tippet. Her dark hair peeped from under a red, broad-brimmed hat with drooping feathers, and her hands were hidden in a large fur muff. Minna herself had just such an outdoor costume, and when dressed for her walk she had often wondered where the little Picture Girl could be going so gaily for hers. And now Minna wondered that once more as she glanced at her favourite picture, upon which the moon was shining so brightly to-night, till, bathed in the bright light, it seemed to stand right out from the shadows of the room. [Illustration: _The Little Picture Girl_] There was a creak, as though the old wardrobe wanted to stretch itself after standing still so long--a funny little way furniture has now and again. But Minna didn't think it was the wardrobe this time--she thought Harlequin had done it. For it seemed to her as though he had suddenly stretched forth his arm and struck out with his staff. No--he was just as usual, only somewhat darker, being in shadow; and as usual just ready to do something, yet never doing it. But surely with the favourite picture there was something different!--some change! It was always morning there. And now--why, now it was night! The moon was lighting up the old moated house, and the stars were twinkling over its heavy, white-capped roof. Minna looked for the little girl in red--but there was no little girl in red on the bridge at all! "Of course," reflected Minna, "she must be in bed behind one of those little dormer windows fast asleep--for it must be very late." This seemed strange somehow, yet it was only just as it really ought to be. She herself never went for a morning walk in the middle of the night, nor had she ever heard of any one else doing so.