2 March 1914 – 8 March 1914

K.T. and her sister were walking down a road that was bounded on one side by a high hill and had on the other a deep ravine. So deep was the ravine that the cliffs at its base shone like points of teeth, sharp and tiny. Her sister was very frightened and clung to her arm, trembling and crying. So K.T. hid her terror and said, " It is all right. It is perfectly all right." She had a little black fur muff slipped over one hand. Suddenly there came driving towards them a chariot like the one in her Latin book, drawn by six stumpy horses and driven by a charioteer in a skull cap. They came at a furious gallop, but the charioteer was calm ; a quiet evil smile dyed his lips. "Oh, K.T.! Oh, K.T.! I'm frightened," sobbed her sister. " It's quite all right. It's perfectly all right," scolded K.T. But as she watched the chariot a strange thing took place. Though the horses maintained their tearing gal- lop, they were not coming towards her and her sister, but were galloping backwards, while the charioteer smiled as though with deep satisfaction. K.T. put her little black muff over her sister's face. " They're gone. They're quite gone." But now the deafening clatter came from behind them like the sound of an army of horsemen in clashing armour. Louder and louder and nearer and nearer came the noise. " Oh, K.T. ! Oh, K.T. ! " moaned her sister and K.T. shut her lips, only pressing her sister's arm. The noise was upon them — in a moment — now. And nothing passed but a black horse as tall as a house with a dark serene rider in a wide hat gliding past them like a ship through the dark water, and glid- ing importantly down the hill. The sight was so fearful that K.T. knew she dreamed. " I must wake up at once." And she made every effort to shut her eyes and shake away the scene, but it would not go. She tried to call and she felt her lips open, but no sound would come. She shouted and screamed without a sound until at last she felt her bed and lifted her head into the burning dark of the bedroom. The view from my window this morning is so tre- mendously exciting. A high wind is blowing and the glass is dashed with rain. In the timber-yard beside the cemetery there are large pools of water and smoke blows from . . .