That was the favorite sport of the village children during the month of May.

The woods were full of soft, innocent, seeking faces, bending over the delicate bells nodding in the midst of whorls of dark leaves.

Every evening, after sundown, there were mysterious bursts of laughter and tiny scamperings around doors, and great balls of bloom swinging from the latchets when they were opened; but no person in sight, only soft gurgles of mirth and delight sounded around a corner of darkness.
After Charlotte went to bed that night she thought she heard somebody at the south door.

"It is the children with some may-flowers," she thought.

But presently she reflected that it was very late for the children to be out.
After a little while she got up, and stole down-stairs to the door, feeling her way through the dark house.
She opened the south door cautiously, and put her hand out.