I have been keeping it warm under one of my brooding pigeons.' Irene sat down in the low chair, and her grandmother left her, shutting the door behind her.

The child sat gazing, now at the rose fire, now at the starry walls, now at the silver light; and a great quietness grew in her heart.

If all the long-legged cats in the world had come rushing at her then she would not have been afraid of them for a moment.

How this was she could not tell--she only knew there was no fear in her, and everything was so right and safe that it could not get in.
She had been gazing at the lovely lamp for some minutes fixedly: turning her eyes, she found the wall had vanished, for she was looking out on the dark cloudy night.

But though she heard the wind blowing, none of it blew upon her.