cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything matter when one's Magic has just proved itself one's friend. Sara's supper of the night before had given her strength, she knew that she should sleep well and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry again before evening, she felt that she could bear it until breakfast-time on the following day, when her meals would surely be given to her again. It was quite late when she was at last allowed to go up-stairs. She had been told to go into the school-room and study until ten o'clock, and she had become interested in her work, and remained over her books later.
When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic door, it must be confessed that her heart beat rather fast.
"Of course it might all have been taken away," she whispered, trying to be brave. "It might only have been lent to me for just that one awful night. But it was lent to me—I had it. It was real."
She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she gasped slightly, shut the door, and stood with her back against it, looking from side to side.
The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more merrily than ever. A number of new things had been brought into the attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past doubting, she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table
