"It is very annoying that I can't get a good night's rest here," thought she. A whispered "Helen," told her that Edith too was awake. "The clock _did_ strike thirteen," said Edith, "and there _must_ be somebody in that room, for I heard the door shut again." "And so did I," said Helen, whereupon they lay still in awe-struck silence, till they both fell fast asleep again. The next day was Saturday, and though somewhat stiff and tired with their exertions, Friday's programme was repeated. The sketches proceeded satisfactorily, but our heroines were less fortunate in other respects, for just as they were about to leave the Black Lake in the afternoon, the rain came on in torrents. Long before they got back to the farm-house the poor girls were thoroughly drenched. Edith escaped with no ill results, but Helen sat shivering over the fire all the evening, passed an uneasy night in which it seemed to her that the clock never left off striking at all, and woke on Sunday morning with every symptom of a delightfully bad cold. The prospect outside was not cheering. Rain, rain, rain. Down it came in torrents. No chance of making their way to the five miles' off church, no chance even of a quiet stroll along the lanes; and, worst of all, no books to read, for such a possibility as a whole day in the house had never presented itself to their inexperienced imaginations! It was very dull. Helen was almost cross with Edith for being so exceedingly sympathetic. It was kind of course, but provoking nevertheless, as to Helen's sensitiveness it seemed to convey a tacit reproach. She would not allow to herself that they were at all to be pitied. All the same she was not sorry when the time came at last for them to go to bed. "I wish we had brought some sherry with us," said Edith. "A little white wine whey would have been the very thing for your cold." "What's the good of wishing," replied her sister rather snappishly, "you had better call Mrs. Jones and ask her to make me some gruel." But on Mrs. Jones's appearance, and when the request had been made, both the girls felt rather surprised at her volunteering the very thing they had been wishing for. She had, she said, "some very nice sherry wine, given her by a friend," and many years ago, when she was in service in Chester, she had learnt to make white wine whey. Sure enough a tempting-looking basinful shortly after made its appearance. Thanks to its soporific influence Helen soon fell asleep, but woke (as she had got strangely into the habit of doing) just at midnight, or as Edith had taken to calling it, "thirteen o'clock". The clock was half-way through its striking when she woke, and a sudden impulse seized her to jump up, and, opening the door slightly, to peep out and either see who it was that always shut a door after the clock struck, or, by seeing nothing, satisfy herself that the sound had all along been merely the creation of her own and Edith's imagination.