In the Attic

           ThefirstnightshespentinheratticwasathingSaraneverforgot.Duringitspassingshelivedthroughawild,unchildlikewoeofwhichsheneverspoketoanyoneabouther.Therewasnoonewhowouldhaveunderstood.Itwas,indeed,wellforherthatasshelayawakeinthedarknesshermindwasforciblydistracted,nowandthen,bythestrangenessofhersurroundings.Itwas,perhaps,wellforherthatshewasremindedbyhersmallbodyofmaterialthings.Ifthishadnotbeenso,theanguishofheryoungmindmighthavebeentoogreatforachildtobear.But,really,whilethenightwaspassingshescarcelyknewthatshehadabodyatallorrememberedanyotherthingthanone.

           "Mypapaisdead!"shekeptwhisperingtoherself."Mypapaisdead!"

           Itwasnotuntillongafterwardthatsherealizedthatherbedhadbeensohardthatsheturnedoverandoverinittofindaplacetorest,thatthedarknessseemedmoreintensethananyshehadeverknown,andthatthewindhowledovertheroofamongthechimneyslikesomethingwhichwailedaloud.Thentherewassomethingworse.Thiswascertainscufflingsandscratchingsandsqueakingsinthewallsandbehindtheskirtingboards.Sheknewwhattheymeant,becauseBeckyhaddescribedthem.Theymeantratsandmicewhowereeitherfightingwitheachotherorplayingtogether.Onceortwicesheevenheardsharp-toedfeetscurryingacrossthefloor,andsherememberedinthoseafterdays,whensherecalledthings,thatwhenfirstsheheardthemshestartedupinbedandsattrembling,andwhenshelaydownagaincoveredherheadwiththebedclothes.

           Thechangeinherlifedidnotcomeaboutgradually,butwasmadeallatonce.