The shivering slowly lessened and at last ceased, but this seemed to make Grizel no less unhappy.  To her vehement attempt to draw her mother’s attention she got no response; the Painted Lady was hearkening intently for some sound other than Grizel’s voice, and only once did she look at her child.  Then it was with cruel, ugly eyes, and at the same moment she shoved Grizel aside so viciously that it was almost a blow.  Grizel sat down sorrowfully beside her doll, like one aware that she could do no more, and her mother at once forgot her.  What was she listening for so eagerly?  Was it for the gallop of a horse?  Tommy strained his ears.

“Elspeth—­speak low—­do you hear anything?”

“No; I’m ower fleid to listen.”

“Whisht! do you no hear a horse?”

“No, everything’s terrible still.  Do you hear a horse?”

“I—­I think I do, but far awa’.”

His imagination was on fire.  Did he hear a distant galloping or did he only make himself hear it?  He had bent his head, and Elspeth, looking affrighted into his face, whispered, “I hear it too, oh, Tommy, so do I!”

And the Painted Lady had heard it.  She kissed her hand toward the Den several times, and each time Tommy seemed to hear that distant galloping.  All the sweetness had returned to her face now, and with it a surging joy, and she rocked her arms exultantly, but quickly controlled them lest Grizel should see.  For evidently Grizel must be cheated, and so the Painted Lady became very sly.  She slipped off her shoes to be able to make her preparations noiselessly, and though at all other times her face expressed the rapture of love, when she glanced at her child it was suspiciously and with a gleam of hatred.  Her preparations were for going out.  She was long at the famous mirror, and when she left it her hair was elaborately dressed and her face so transformed that first Tommy exclaimed “Bonny!” and then corrected himself with a scornful “Paint!” On her feet she put a foolish little pair of red shoes, on her head a hat too gay with flowers, and across her shoulders a flimsy white shawl at which the night air of Thrums would laugh.  Her every movement was light and cautious and accompanied by side-glances at Grizel, who occasionally looked at her, when the Painted Lady immediately pretended to be tending her plants again.  She spoke to Grizel sweetly to deceive her, and shot baleful glances at her next moment.  Tommy saw that Grizel had taken up her doll once more and was squeezing it to her breast.  She knew very well what was going on behind her back.

Suddenly Tommy took to his heels, Elspeth after him.  He had seen the Painted Lady coming on her tip-toes to the window.  They saw the window open and a figure in a white shawl creep out of it, as she had doubtless escaped long ago by another window when the door was barred.  They lost sight of her at once.