she rubbed her eyes , and looked all round , but she was nowhere to be seen . the girl was utterly bewildered . she wondered if she could have been dreaming , but no that could not be , there were her footprints leading up the bank and down again , where she had gone for the lint , and brought it back , and there was the mark of her foot , wet with dew , on a stone in the middle of the stream , where she had stood when she had handed the lint up to the mysterious little stranger . what was she to do now ? what would her mother say when , in addition to not having finished the task that had been given her , she had to confess to having lost the greater part of the lint also ? she ran up and down the little dell , hunting amongst the bushes , and peeping into every nook and cranny of the bank where the little old woman might have hidden herself . it was all in vain ; and at last , tired out with the search , she sat down on the stone once more , and presently fell fast asleep . when she awoke it was evening . the sun had set , and the yellow glow on the western horizon was fast giving place to the silvery light of the moon . she was sitting thinking of the curious events of the day , and gazing at the great boulder opposite , when it seemed to her as if a distant murmur of voices came from it .
she saw her footprints .
how did maisie know that she was not dreaming ?
how did maisie know that she was not dreaming ?