would be by the left-hand window. I threw up a pebble. It struck a pane: cracked it, I thought, and, falling on the pavement, bounded and rolled into the gutter. I made a step, picked it up, and, standing, threw again. Same result. But I didn't look for the falling pebble: I looked steadily at the window. Surely she was awake.
Now for a little soft earth!—Up it went.
I looked steadily at the window.
No—yes! A movement: a movement of the blind. I stepped back, and, taking off my hat, and turning a little sideways, so that she might if possible see something of my face, looked up as before.
Another movement of the blind. It was, I thought, drawn aside a little. I held up my outstretched arms. All at once I knew the blind ran up; heard a hasp strike, and the top half of the window came down. There was something white in the dark space that had been the top half of the window. I cried out:
'Rosy, it's me!—me! Come down and let me in.'
'O gracious!' said her dear voice, 'how you frightened me! What's the matter?'
'Let me in! let me in! let me in!' I said,
'"Do thou roll forth a fruit-cake
out of the rich house,
and a beaker of wine
and a basket of cheeses;
and wheat-bread the swallow
and the pulse porridge
does not reject. Say, shall I go away, or something receive!"'
Heaven only knew what the poor child thought of it all! I began laughing at the idea. Then, suddenly serious:
'Mrs. Smith is fast asleep,' I said quietly, 'down here. I want to tell you something—something very important to us both. Will you come and let me in?'
A pause, then:
'Yes,' she said, 'I will come down.'
Then the window was drawn up, and I stood waiting for some minutes. At last I heard her coming down the creaking stairs. A bolt was softly undone at the top of the door, a lock shot back: the door opened, and I was standing by her in the narrow passage.
