Once only did she halt by the side of a lane to consider what she should do if she couldn't find her destination after all. Two robins alighted in front of her, hopped about, and fluttered forward; they were so persistent that they interested her and she followed them. They flew along a side path, and Eva ran after them--ran till she arrived eager and breathless at a wooden bridge, and found that she was in a park; that above her was the dark vault of heaven decked out in all its diamonds; that the bridge led across a moat; and that in front of her was a splendid old country mansion brilliantly lighted up, where the robins alighted on a window-sill, and paying no further attention to her, busied themselves with crumbs. [Illustration: _It was a very, very long ladder_] Then Eva advanced, almost in spite of herself, went up the front steps, and standing on tiptoe, lifted the knocker and let it fall. The knocker resounded for a while musically, like a peal of bells; when they ceased, the door opened, and a very ancient man confronted her. He was tall and thin and bent, and was dressed in draperies, with bare legs, and he had a funny little curl in the middle of his bald forehead. "Is Father Christmas at home, please?" faltered Eva. "Yes, little Madam," came the reply. "Do you want to see him? Really? But you will be astonished--I warn you. Aren't you frightened?" "Not a bit," replied Eva. "Brave little girl!" said the very ancient man. "Come in!" and he ushered her into an old oak-panelled room. It had a delicious sense of comfort, and a delight about it which, for the moment, she didn't try to define. Her attention was attracted by catching sight of what she thought was her own reflection in the large mirror against the wall--it was a little girl who came in at the same time, and was of exactly her own height. As she looked closer she saw that the other child was uglier than herself, unkind in expression, slovenly in appearance, and tried to hide herself, rather, in the dark corner where she remained. And Eva, in the novel surroundings, soon forgot all about her. At the far end was a great log fire, and near it a huge arm-chair, in which sat a stout, healthy, red-faced old gentleman warmly wrapped in a crimson dressing-gown; he was leaning back, thinking or dozing. Eva advanced with soft steps. She was full of eagerness and excitement, for she recognised the white-bearded, handsome old face at once from the many coloured portraits she had seen. It was Father Christmas himself! Eva never knew what impelled her to do it, but when she got close to him she simply threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.