ain't you, Maggie?"

In her attic Elnora lighted two candles, set them on her little table,
stacked the books, and put away the precious clothes. How lovingly she
hung the hat and umbrella, folded the raincoat, and spread the new dress
over a chair. She fingered the ribbons, and tried to smooth the
creases from them. She put away the hose neatly folded, touched the
handkerchiefs, and tried the belt. Then she slipped into her white
nightdress, shook down her hair that it might become thoroughly dry,
set a chair before the table, and reverently opened one of the books. A
stiff draught swept the attic, for it stretched the length of the cabin,
and had a window in each end. Elnora arose and going to the east window
closed it. She stood for a minute looking at the stars, the sky, and
the dark outline of the straggling trees of the rapidly dismantling
Limberlost. In the region of her case a tiny point of light flashed and
disappeared. Elnora straightened and wondered. Was it wise to leave
her precious money there? The light flashed once more, wavered a few
seconds, and died out. The girl waited. She did not see it again, so she
turned to her books.

In the Limberlost the hulking figure of a man sneaked down the trail.

"The Bird Woman was at Freckles's room this evening," he muttered.
"Wonder what for?"

He left the trail, entered the enclosure still distinctly outlined,
and approached the case. The first point of light flashed from the tiny
electric lamp on his vest. He took a duplicate key from his pocket, felt
for the padlock and opened it. The door swung wide. The light flashed
the second time. Swiftly his glance swept the interior.