"’Tis a whisht old place," she said, "and cold." Her voice came back to her, echoed from the passage. "Cold!" "There always seems some one in the passage," she said whimsically, "some one who wants to talk and can only say what we do say." Richbell tried the echo. "Mammy!" she said and "Mammy" was whispered back to her. Mrs. Tom hung her cloak behind the door and turned upon the world a business face. "Here’s the matches," she said, taking them from the mantelshelf, "and you’ll find a candle in the linhay there. Now light up the fire quick and make a cup of tea and I’ll run in and see if yer auntie’s awake." Exaggerating the companionable sound of her steps, she went down the passage. So dark was it that she guided herself with a hand to the wall, finding thus the stairs, the turning that led into the other part of the house and, eventually, the door of the justice-room. At this she knocked. Receiving no answer she hesitated for a moment and then knocked again. "She’s sleepin’ well this mornin’," she told herself. "I believe she was fair beat yesterday with all that bread-makin’ and Leadville so teasy; funny, though, ’at I can’t make ’er ’ear." She rattled cheerfully at the handle and, under her preoccupation with Sabina, was the feeling that Hember chambers were full of light and sound and that presently she would return to them. Never had she felt so strongly the brooding oppression of the old house. "S’bina! S’bina!" she called and pushed open the door. "Pretty time o’ day this to be in sleepin’," and her voice, dauntingly loud, filled the room. For a moment she stood to listen. Another voice should have answered her, should have come to her, reassuringly, out of the gloom. "How be gettin’ on, S’bina?" she faltered. From down the passage came sounds of human nearness: Richbell was moving about in the kitchen and the fact that the girl depended on her for direction stiffened the other’s courage. Pulling herself together she crossed the threshold. Once in the room, however, and she was momentarily at a loss. As day still lingered below the eastern hills, to pull the dimity curtains apart would not further matters. Her hand went to the pocket of her white apron and, in a loud, would-be-cheerful tone, she went on talking the while she struck a match. "You always seem to be able to sleep towards the mornin’, don’t ’ee? Iss, and we’ve overslept ourself this mornin’; well, we couldn’t expect any other after yesterday. ’Twas a lot to think about if not much to do. I’ve brought Richbell down this morning. She didn’t care to come by ’erself so I told ’er I’d come with ’er; and, while she was makin’ your cup of tea, I thought I’d come and ’av a little chat and tell yer ’ow we got on last night."