they had been red-hot. What could that awful sound mean at ten o'clock
at night?

For some moments the little parlour-maid was completely overcome by
terror. Then, all at once, her thoughts flew back to the person whose
image had occupied her mind all that evening. Was it not just possible
that the dashing young baker might have something very particular to
say to her, and that he had come in this mysterious manner to say it?

Again the same low, stealthy tapping sounded on the shutter.

This time Susan Trott plucked up a spirit, took the bright brass
candlestick in her hand, and went to the little door leading from the
scullery to the back garden.

She opened the door and peered cautiously out. No one was to be seen--
that tiresome baker was indulging in some practical joke, no doubt, and
trying to frighten her.

Susan was determined not to be frightened by her sweet-heart's tricks,
so she tripped boldly out into the garden, still carrying the brass
candlestick.

At the first step the wind blew out the candle; but, of course, that
was of very little consequence when the bright moonlight made
everything as clearly visible as at noon.

"I know who it is," cried Susan, in a voice intended to reach the
baker; "and it's a great shame to try and frighten a poor girl when
she's sitting all alone by herself."