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She
opened
the
door
of
the
room
and
went
into
the
corridor
,
and
then
she
began
her
wanderings
.
It
was
a
long
corridor
and
it
branched
into
other
corridors
and
it
led
her
up
short
flights
of
steps
which
mounted
to
others
again
.
There
were
doors
and
doors
,
and
there
were
pictures
on
the
walls
.
Sometimes
they
were
pictures
of
dark
,
curious
landscapes
,
but
oftenest
they
were
portraits
of
men
and
women
in
queer
,
grand
costumes
made
of
satin
and
velvet
.
She
found
herself
in
one
long
gallery
whose
walls
were
covered
with
these
portraits
.
She
had
never
thought
there
could
be
so
many
in
any
house
.
She
walked
slowly
down
this
place
and
stared
at
the
faces
which
also
seemed
to
stare
at
her
.
She
felt
as
if
they
were
wondering
what
a
little
girl
from
India
was
doing
in
their
house
.
Some
were
pictures
of
children
—
little
girls
in
thick
satin
frocks
which
reached
to
their
feet
and
stood
out
about
them
,
and
boys
with
puffed
sleeves
and
lace
collars
and
long
hair
,
or
with
big
ruffs
around
their
necks
.
She
always
stopped
to
look
at
the
children
,
and
wonder
what
their
names
were
,
and
where
they
had
gone
,
and
why
they
wore
such
odd
clothes
.
There
was
a
stiff
,
plain
little
girl
rather
like
herself
.
She
wore
a
green
brocade
dress
and
held
a
green
parrot
on
her
finger
.
Her
eyes
had
a
sharp
,
curious
look
.
“
Where
do
you
live
now
?
”
said
Mary
aloud
to
her
.
“
I
wish
you
were
here
.
”
Surely
no
other
little
girl
ever
spent
such
a
queer
morning
.
It
seemed
as
if
there
was
no
one
in
all
the
huge
rambling
house
but
her
own
small
self
,
wandering
about
upstairs
and
down
,
through
narrow
passages
and
wide
ones
,
where
it
seemed
to
her
that
no
one
but
herself
had
ever
walked
.
Since
so
many
rooms
had
been
built
,
people
must
have
lived
in
them
,
but
it
all
seemed
so
empty
that
she
could
not
quite
believe
it
true
.
It
was
not
until
she
climbed
to
the
second
floor
that
she
thought
of
turning
the
handle
of
a
door
.
All
the
doors
were
shut
,
as
Mrs
.
Medlock
had
said
they
were
,
but
at
last
she
put
her
hand
on
the
handle
of
one
of
them
and
turned
it
.
She
was
almost
frightened
for
a
moment
when
she
felt
that
it
turned
without
difficulty
and
that
when
she
pushed
upon
the
door
itself
it
slowly
and
heavily
opened
.
It
was
a
massive
door
and
opened
into
a
big
bedroom
.
There
were
embroidered
hangings
on
the
wall
,
and
inlaid
furniture
such
as
she
had
seen
in
India
stood
about
the
room
.
A
broad
window
with
leaded
panes
looked
out
upon
the
moor
;
and
over
the
mantel
was
another
portrait
of
the
stiff
,
plain
little
girl
who
seemed
to
stare
at
her
more
curiously
than
ever
.
“
Perhaps
she
slept
here
once
,
”
said
Mary
.
“
She
stares
at
me
so
that
she
makes
me
feel
queer
.
”
After
that
she
opened
more
doors
and
more
.
She
saw
so
many
rooms
that
she
became
quite
tired
and
began
to
think
that
there
must
be
a
hundred
,
though
she
had
not
counted
them
.
In
all
of
them
there
were
old
pictures
or
old
tapestries
with
strange
scenes
worked
on
them
.
There
were
curious
pieces
of
furniture
and
curious
ornaments
in
nearly
all
of
them
.
In
one
room
,
which
looked
like
a
lady
’
s
sitting
-
room
,
the
hangings
were
all
embroidered
velvet
,
and
in
a
cabinet
were
about
a
hundred
little
elephants
made
of
ivory
.
They
were
of
different
sizes
,
and
some
had
their
mahouts
or
palanquins
on
their
backs
.
Some
were
much
bigger
than
the
others
and
some
were
so
tiny
that
they
seemed
only
babies
.
Mary
had
seen
carved
ivory
in
India
and
she
knew
all
about
elephants
.
She
opened
the
door
of
the
cabinet
and
stood
on
a
footstool
and
played
with
these
for
quite
a
long
time
.
When
she
got
tired
she
set
the
elephants
in
order
and
shut
the
door
of
the
cabinet
.
In
all
her
wanderings
through
the
long
corridors
and
the
empty
rooms
,
she
had
seen
nothing
alive
;
but
in
this
room
she
saw
something
.
Just
after
she
had
closed
the
cabinet
door
she
heard
a
tiny
rustling
sound
.
It
made
her
jump
and
look
around
at
the
sofa
by
the
fireplace
,
from
which
it
seemed
to
come
.
In
the
corner
of
the
sofa
there
was
a
cushion
,
and
in
the
velvet
which
covered
it
there
was
a
hole
,
and
out
of
the
hole
peeped
a
tiny
head
with
a
pair
of
frightened
eyes
in
it
.
Mary
crept
softly
across
the
room
to
look
.
The
bright
eyes
belonged
to
a
little
gray
mouse
,
and
the
mouse
had
eaten
a
hole
into
the
cushion
and
made
a
comfortable
nest
there
.
Six
baby
mice
were
cuddled
up
asleep
near
her
.
If
there
was
no
one
else
alive
in
the
hundred
rooms
there
were
seven
mice
who
did
not
look
lonely
at
all
.
