From somewhere  on  the edge of  hearing came  a  glingleglingleglingle noise, like little silver bells.

     At  about  the same time as the Archchancellor was laying down the law, Susan Sto-Helit was sitting up in bed, reading by candlelight.

     Frost patterns curled across the windows.

     She enjoyed these early evenings. Once she had put  the children to bed she was more or less left to  herself. Mrs Gaiter was pathetically scared of giving her any instructions even though she paid Susan's wages.

     Not that the wages  were important, of course.  What was  important was that she was being  her Own Person and holding down a  Real job. And being a governess was a real job. The  only  tricky bit  had been  the embarrassment when her employer found out  that she was a duchess, because in Mrs Gaiter's book, which was  a  rather short book  with big handwriting, the upper crust wasn't  supposed to  work. It was supposed to loaf around. It was  all Susan could do to stop her curtseying when they met.

     A flicker made her turn her head.

     The candle flame was streaming out horizontally, as though in a howling wind.

     She looked up. The curtains billowed away from the window, which...

     ...flung itself open with a clatter.

     But there was no wind.

     At least, no wind in this world.

     Images formed in her mind. A red  ball  ... The sharp  smell of snow... And then they were gone, and instead there were...

     'Teeth?' said Susan, aloud. 'Teeth, again?'

     She blinked. When she opened her eyes  the  window was,  as she knew it would be,  firmly  shut. The  curtain  hung  demurely. The candle flame  was innocently upright. Oh, no, not again. Not after all this  time.  Everything had been going so well