The child lay with her hands clasped, breathing lightly.  The sound of voices came drowsily from the kitchen... she must not go to sleep!  She sat up and leaned toward the little window that looked out to the north.  Through the blackness the stars twinkled mistily, and she put her foot carefully over the edge of the bed and slipped down.  The window was open—­as far as the small sash allowed—­and a warm, faint breeze came across the plain to her.  She leaned against the sill, looking out.  It was not far to the ground....  But she could see only vague blackness down there, and she looked again up to the twinkling stars....  They were little points of light up there, and she looked up trustfully while the warm wind blew against her.  Her heart was beating very hard—­and fast—­but she was not afraid....  Mr. Achilles had said—­not to be afraid—­and he was waiting—­down there in the blackness to take her home.  She crept back to bed and lay down—­very still.  In the room below there was a scraping of chairs and louder words—­and footsteps....  Someone had opened the door under her window and the smell of tobacco came up.  Her little nose disdained it—­and listened, alert.  Footsteps went out into the night and moved a little away on the gravel and came back, and the door closed.  She could hear the bolt click to its place and the footsteps shuffle along the hall.  The voices below had ceased and the house was still—­she was very sleepy now.  But he had said—­Mr. Achilles had said....  She winked briskly and gave herself a little pinch under the clothes—­and sat up.  It was a sharp little pinch—­through many thicknesses of clothes.  Under the coarse nightgown buttoned carefully to the throat, she was still wearing the red and green plaids and all her day clothes.  Only the clumsy shoes, slipped off, stood by the bed, waiting for her.  Her hand reached down to them cautiously, and felt them—­and she lay down and closed her eyes.  There was a step on the stairs—­coming slowly.  Betty Harris grew very still.  If Mrs. Seabury came in and stood and looked at her... she must cry out—­and throw her arms around her neck—­and tell her everything!  She could not hurt Mrs. Seabury....  Mr. Achilles had said they would not hurt her.  She had asked him that—­three times, herself—­and Mr. Achilles had said it—­no one should hurt Mrs. Seabury—­if Betty went away....  She held her breath....  The footsteps had come across the room—­to her door—­they waited there... then they moved on—­and she drew a free breath.  Her heart thumped to the vague movements that came and went in the next room—­they pottered about a little, and finally ceased and a light, indrawn breath blew out the lamp—­a hand was groping for the handle of her door—­and opening it softly—­and the bare feet moved away.  The bed-springs in the next room creaked a little and everything was still.  Betty Harris had a quick sense of pain.  Mrs. Seabury was kind to her!  She had been so kind that first day, when