So up and up she went, stair after stair, until she came to the many rooms—all just as she had seen them before. Through passage after passage she softly sped, comforting herself that if she should lose her way it would not matter much, because when she woke she would find herself in her own bed with Lootie not far off. But, as if she had known every step of the way, she walked straight to the door at the foot of the narrow stair that led to the tower.
“What if I should realliality-really find my beautiful old grandmother up there!” she said to herself as she crept up the steep steps.
When she reached the top she stood a moment listening in the dark, for there was no moon there. Yes! it was! it was the hum of the spinning-wheel! What a diligent grandmother to work both day and night! She tapped gently at the door.
“Come in, Irene,” said the sweet voice.
The princess opened the door and entered. There was the moonlight streaming in at the window, and in the middle of the moonlight sat the old lady in her black dress with the white lace, and her silvery hair mingling with the moonlight, so that you could not have told which was which. “Come in, Irene,” she said again. “Can you tell me what I am spinning?”
“She speaks,” thought Irene, “just as if she had seen me five minutes ago, or yesterday at the farthest.—No,” she answered; “I don’t know what you are spinning. Please, I thought you were a dream. Why couldn’t I find you before, great-great-grandmother?”
“That you are hardly old enough to understand. But you would have found me sooner if you hadn’t come to think I was a dream. I will give you one reason though why you couldn’t find me. I didn’t want you to find me.”