The path led into a deeper forest.  It became very silent and black.  He could barely see the path beneath his feet.  And it seemed to him that he was now all surrounded by living, hidden creatures, who knew that he was passing.  But he could not feel that Cinderella was anywhere near him.

The path turned into a lane, and the lane entered a region where there were vague fields on either side, fields in which things had been planted.  And then he stopped suddenly, not knowing whether he should continue on his way, or return to his companions by the side of the road.  He had discerned a house before him, standing on the top of a hill.  And although it was very late, a single light burned in one of its windows.

For just a moment he reflected; and then he continued on his way, in the direction of that lighted window.

CHAPTER IX

CINDERELLA AT HOME

For just a few moments let us enter that house of the lighted window, that we may witness certain strange happenings.

We come into an immense, old-fashioned kitchen or scullery.

A candle burned on a mantel, sending its tranquil light out into the room and creating ghostly shadows.  Under the mantel, in the deepest shadows of all, andirons and a crane seemed to be slinking back as if they were hiding.

In the center of the room there was a rough wooden table.  Over against the wall, near the door which opened to the highway, stood a grandfather’s clock, ticking severely, as if it were dissatisfied with the way things were going in the house.  There were a number of other doors visible, all closed as if they were saying, “This is an orderly house, and everybody has gone to bed, of course!”

But everybody hadn’t gone to bed!  Over beyond the wooden table, against the wall, there was a bed, and there was nobody in it.  Moreover, there was a figure seated at the wooden table:  the figure of a woman, who silently polished the spoons which were scattered before her.  She had already scoured certain pots and pans which were piled in a heap near her hand.

Suddenly the strange happenings began.

A mouse appeared among the pots and pans on the table.  It sat an instant, with alert eyes and fidgety nose and whiskers, and then it scrambled down the leg of the table and crossed the floor in the direction of the grandfather’s clock.  An instant later there it was again, climbing up the white face of the clock!

The clock ticked more severely than ever.  The mouse disappeared amid the works of the clock:  and presto!  The clock loudly struck one.

The mouse darted into sight again, slipping down across the face of the clock.  Then it disappeared.

The vibrations of the clock, filling the room as with a great clamor, slowly died away.

Then there was another sound:  a nervous rattling of the latch on the door opening to the highway.  The door opened rather abruptly, and Cinderella, panting and pale, stood on the threshold.