On that night, the storm was raining down hard. The East Wind blowing through the naked branches of the cherry-trees in the Lane. The trees themselves, turning and bending in the half light, looked as though they had gone mad and were dancing their roots out of the ground.

After a while, you thought you saw a figure in the storm, floating in a parasol. She held her hat on with one hand and carried a bag in the other.

She opened the door to your house, as if she had the keys already. "Ahhhh! Is this the right house? I was called to do some babysitting!"