air as it was, but that stupid
woman standing just outside my door waiting to be told again to come in
roused a spirit of vexation that filled my head to the exclusion of all
else. At last I jumped up and opened the door myself.

"What do you want, and why in the world don't you come in?" I cried out.
But the words dropped into empty air. There was no one there. The fog
poured up the dingy staircase in deep yellow coils, but there was no
sign of a human being anywhere.

I slammed the door, with imprecations upon the house and its noises, and
went back to my work. A few minutes later Emily came in with a letter.

"Were you or Mrs. Monson outside a few minutes ago knocking at my door?"

"No, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Mrs. Monson's gone to market, and there's no one but me and the child
in the 'ole 'ouse, and I've been washing the dishes for the last hour,
sir."

I fancied the girl's face turned a shade paler. She fidgeted toward the
door with a glance over her shoulder.

"Wait, Emily," I said, and then told her what I had heard. She stared
stupidly at me, though her eyes shifted now and then over the articles
in the room.

"Who was it?" I asked when I had come to the end.

"Mrs. Monson says it's honly mice," she said, as if repeating a learned
lesson.

"Mice!" I exclaimed; "it's nothing of the sort. Someone was feeling
about outside my door. Who was it? Is the son in the house?"

Her whole manner changed suddenly, and she became earnest instead of
evasive. She seemed anxious to tell the truth.

"Oh, no, sir; there's no one in the house at all but you and me and the
child, and there couldn't have been nobody at your door. As for them
knocks--" She stopped abruptly, as though she had said too much.

"Well, what about the knocks?" I said more gently.

"Of course," she stammered, "the knocks isn't mice, nor the footsteps
neither, but then--" Again she came to a full halt.

"Anything wrong with the house?"

"Lor', no, sir; the drains is splendid."

"I don't mean drains, girl. I mean, did anything--anything bad ever
happen here?"

She flushed up to the roots of her hair, and then turned suddenly pale
again. She was obviously in considerable distress, and there was
something she was anxious, yet afraid to tell--some forbidden thing she
was not allowed to mention.

"I don't mind what it was, only I should like to know," I said
encouragingly.

Raising her frightened eyes to my face, she began to blurt ou