She realised that it was the cat. The cat hated
her and she hated it. She had not realised that before, but now with
the illumination of the lighted street behind her she realised it.
The cat was the spirit of the chapel watching her, spying upon her
tc see that she did not escape. The cat knew that she had posted her
letter and to whom she had posted it. She advanced to the bottom of
the stair and said: "Brr. You horrid thing! I hate you!" and
instantly the two fiery eyes had vanished, but now in their place
the whole house seemed to be watching, so silent and attentive was
it--and the odour of damp biscuits and wet umbrellas seemed to be
everywhere.
Just then old Martha came out with a lamp in her hand, and standing
upon a chair, lit the great ugly gas over the middle of the door.
"Why, Miss Maggie," she said in her soft, surprised whisper, looking
as she always did, beyond the girl, into darkness.
"I've been out," said Maggie, defiantly.
"Not all alone, miss?"
"All alone," said Maggie. "Why not? I can look after myself."
"Well, there's your uncle waiting in the drawing-room--just come,"
said the old woman, climbing down from the chair with that silent
imperturbable discontent that always frightened Maggie.
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