“It’s lovely of you not to be jealous of us, Cinderella,” she said.  “I hope your turn will come, too.  Good-night.”

Cinderella had already relapsed into her dreamy mood.  “Good-night,” she called.  And she continued to sit and gaze into the fireplace.

But suddenly she started up excitedly and turned about.  She fixed her gaze upon the door opening to the highway.  Her left hand moved unconsciously to her heart.

Some one was timidly knocking on the door!

She stood for a moment as if to make sure that she had not dreamed that some one had knocked.  It was very late, and the house was in a lonely spot.  Then she advanced, marveling yet unafraid, and removed the bar from before the door.

The door opened quietly and Everychild stood on the threshold.

CHAPTER X

CINDERELLA’S DECISION

Everychild’s eyes beamed with delight.  “Then you did come to this house,” he said.  “I thought you did; but you ran so fast—­I couldn’t be sure where you went.”  It is true that he was breathing quickly, but he was perfectly happy.

Cinderella stood regarding him, two finger tips pressed against her cheek.  “Have I—­have I ever met you before?” she asked wonderingly.

He did not really reply to this.  “I was beside the road with my companions,” he said.  “We were lying down.  I saw you hurry by.  I could tell something was the matter.  I followed you.  I hope you don’t mind!”

She regarded him dubiously.  “You look like a very nice boy,” she said.  “But it’s fearfully late for you to be out or for me to ask you to come in.  Still——­”

“Please let me come in,” pleaded Everychild.  “There’s something I want very much to ask you.”

After a pause she said, “Well, yes, you may come in.”  She stood aside, watching him with a whimsical smile as he advanced into the room.

He stopped in surprise when he saw the figure at the table, bending over the spoons.  It was the Masked Lady.  She had put aside her shepherdess’s crook and had become a house-servant.  But he was so full of the thought of Cinderella that he paid little heed to the Masked Lady.

He sat down in one of the chairs the sisters had occupied; and when Cinderella followed and sat down by him he gazed at her intently.

“Tell me—­what was it you wished to know?” asked Cinderella.

He had trouble finding the right words; but at length he began, “Your mother—­does she whip you?  You know, you were running so, and you seemed so frightened . . .”

Cinderella looked beyond him.  She seemed to speak to herself rather than to Everychild.  “She doesn’t whip me,” she said.  “If it were only being whipped I shouldn’t mind so much.  A whipping . . . it’s soon over and little harm done.  No, she doesn’t whip me.”

“Or perhaps she tries to lose you,” said Everychild.  “You were really in a dreadful state, you know, as you came running along the road.”