The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-09-19

a temporary peace offering, but 1t did not greatly reassure Ruth.
 At supper Penny served her effi- ciently and quietly. Ruth sensed that she did not want to talk, so she sat formally at the big table, as aloof and naughty as Elaine herself would have been.
 Afterward, when she offered to help with the dishes, the old wom- an shook her head impatiently. Just you leave me be Miss Elaine" she said. I'm used to workin' my own way"
 Every we'll" Ruth replied. "I'll not offer again. But just remem- Der I'm willing" She felt lonely for the wistful old woman who had first made her welcome here, who had seemed to need companion ship. It was a loss, not to be need ed any more.
 Ruth had thought that when she tumbled into bed that night she would sleep the sound, deep sleep of physical exhaustion, but for some unknown reason this boon did not come to her. She lay toss- ing for an hour, two hours, before she decided to go to the library and get Travels of a Donkey" She got up quietly, lighted her candle, put on bathrobe and slippers and went downstairs. In the library she set the candle on the table and went to the shelf where she had placed the volume.
 It was not there. The entire set of Stevenson was missing. The gap had been filled by some odds and ends of books which she had stored behind the reference books.
 "Of all things!" she said. Her mind yielded to the blankness of utter surprise. She knew that she had left the books there.
 "Or did IF" she asked in confu- sion. Maybe I put them in an- other place, without realizing" She began to look through the shelves. After almost an hour had been ticked away by the grand fathers clock in the hall she was forced to admit that the books were not in the room at all. And that's that" she said grimly. going out and closing the door.
 
 It was past midnight as she passed the clock in the hall. It had long ago ceased to strike, but 1t kept perfect time. At least Ber- tha had several times assured her that it did, as she wound 1t before retiring. Tonight, with its noisy ticking resounding through the quiet hall and with it's yellowed face shining in the candle light, | the clock seemed to Ruth to be @ living creature. She wondered what stories it would tell if it's clicking old tongue could speak. It had been witness to all the old house had experienced--the happi- ness and sorrow, the births and deaths, the joys and honors, the disagreements and partings. Was it all over now for the old house. or was there something more to come? Ruth had the feeling that the blue door was waiting for some thing. Or was it only she herself who waited?
 In her room once more she blew out her candle and tried with firm ness and determination to sleep. It was then that she heard the foot steps. They went back and forth with ceaseless regularity, like someone pacing.
 Penny must be sick!" she thought. She remembered how Great-Aunt Matilda had paced the floor with neuralgia many a night when Ruth was child. Floor walk ing always suggested pain to her. She got out of bed again and opened the door. "Penny!" she called, still hearing the steps, "Penny! Are you sick?"
 Immediately the walking ceased, but there was no answer. Ruth went back into her room, locked the door and got into bed. Lying there she realized that the sounds had not come from the second floor at all, but from somewhere over- head. Penny's room was at the rear of the second floor, down the hall from Ruth's own.
 She thought irritably, "If Pen- ny's pacing the floor, why doesn't she do 1t in her own territory? :. Or can she be sleep-walking?
 The latter seemed possible. Either that, or Penny was suffering from insomnia like herself Chad the coffee been too strong at sup per?) and was working off her en- ergy by cleaning the third fioor.
 "That's no more senseless," Ruth told herself, than stealing half her own cake and carrying off set or books when she can't see to read