Well, what with one thing and another, the sun was right up in the
very mid-most middle of the sky when she crossed the last meadow from
the mill and came in sight of her grandmother's cottage, and the big
lilac-bushes that grew by the garden gate.
"Oh! dear, how I must have lingered!" said the child, when she saw
how high the sun had climbed since she set out on her journey; and,
pattering up the garden-path, she tapped at the cottage door.
"Who's there?" said a very gruff kind of voice from inside.
"It's only I, Grannie dear, your little Red Riding-Hood with some
goodies for you in my basket, answered the child.
"Then pull the bobbin," cried the voice, "and the latch will go up."
"What a dreadful cold poor Grannie must have, to be sure, to make her
so hoarse," thought the child. Then she pulled the bobbin, and the
latch went up, and Red Riding-Hood pushed open the door, and stepped
inside the cottage.
It seemed very dark in there after the bright sunlight outside, and
all Red Riding-Hood could see was that the window-curtains and the
bed-curtains were still drawn, and her grandmother seemed to be lying
in bed with the bed-clothes pulled almost over her head, and her great
white-frilled nightcap nearly hiding her face.
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