"The lady had never moved. She sat with her forehead leaning
on her hand, gazing out of the little window, hung like the rest
with white cloudy curtains. From where I was sitting I looked out
of it too, but I could see nothing. Her face was very beautiful,
and very white, and very still, and her hand was as white as
the forehead that leaned on it. I did not see her whole face--
only the side of it, for she never moved to turn it full upon me,
or even to look at me.

"How long I sat after I had eaten my bread and honey, I don't know.
The little man was busy about the room, pulling a string here,
and a string there, but chiefly the string at the back of the door.
I was thinking with some uneasiness that he would soon be wanting
me to go out and clean the windows, and I didn't fancy the job.
At last he came up to me with a great armful of dusters. `It's time
you set about the windows,' he said; `for there's rain coming,
and if they're quite clean before, then the rain can't spoil them.'
I got up at once. `You needn't be afraid,' he said. `You won't
tumble off. Only you must be careful. Always hold on with one hand
while you rub with the other.' As he spoke, he opened the door.
I started back in a terrible fright, for there was nothing but blue
air to be seen under me, like a great water without a bottom at all.
But what must be must, and to live up here was so much nicer
than down in the mud with holes in my shoes, that I never thought
of not doing as I was told. The little man showed me how and
where to lay hold while I put my foot round the edge of the door
on to the first round of a ladder. `Once you're up,' he said,
`you'll see how you have to go well enough.' I did as he told me,
and crept out very carefully. Then the little man handed me the
bundle of dusters, saying, `I always carry them on my reaping hook,