Braced and heartened by that easy encounter, she picked up speed and began to look deliberately atthe neighborhood surrounding her. She was shocked to see how small the big things were: theboulder by the edge of the road she once couldn't see over was a sitting-on rock. Paths leading tohouses weren't miles long. Dogs didn't even reach her knees. Letters cut into beeches and oaks bygiants were eye level now.

　　She would have known it anywhere. The post and scrap-lumber fence was gray now, not white, butshe would have known it anywhere. The stone porch sitting in a skirt of ivy, pale yellow curtains atthe windows; the laid brick path to the front door and wood planks leading around to the back,passing under the windows where she had stood on tiptoe to see above the sill. Denver was aboutto do it again, when she realized how silly it would be to be found once more staring into the parlorof Mrs. Lady Jones. The pleasure she felt at having found the house dissolved, suddenly, in doubt.

　　Suppose she didn't live there anymore? Or remember her former student after all this time? Whatwould she say? Denver shivered inside, wiped the perspiration from her forehead and knocked.

　　Lady Jones went to the door expecting raisins. A child, probably, from the softness of the knock,sent by its mother with the raisins she needed if her contribution to the supper was to be worth thetrouble. There would be any number of plain cakes, potato pies. She had reluctantly volunteered her own special creation, but said she didn't have raisins, so raisins is what the president saidwould be provided — early enough so there would be no excuses. Mrs. Jones, dreading the fatigueof beating batter, had been hoping she had forgotten. Her bake oven had been cold all week —getting it to the right temperature would be awful. Since............