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A week later Ann really did see the sunrise.

Since her adventure with Mrs. Holmes in that mysterious hour before the dawn, the girl had often wakened from sleep, startled at some unusual sound, wondering if the poor somnambulist was again restless. But each occasion proved a false alarm. Then came a night when, roused from a deep sleep, she felt convinced she was not mistaken. A stealthy footstep had sounded in the hall! It could not be either Mrs. Pratt or Emily, for they did not come up from the cottage to the homestead before six in the morning. She listened breathlessly. Undoubtedly some one was moving about now in the kitchen. Suppose Mrs. Holmes in one of her nocturnal rambles set the wooden house on fire!

Ann thrust her feet into her slippers, and hurriedly threw on a wrapper. Making her way along the passage, she saw a light under the kitchen door. Well! At any rate she wouldn’t this time have the uncanny experience of meeting Mrs. Holmes in the dark. That was a comfort. She opened the door gently, and saw the lamp lighted, a fire burning in the stove, steam coming from the kettle, and a man bending over a