ders of gold-dust at
certain knot-holes in the eastern gable, across whose film she saw two
lean mice stand upon the floor unalarmed, and tamely watch her come.

The screaming of the bird was conveyed through the thin floor from above
with loud distinctness, and every note of singing things seemed to be
imitated by it, from the hawk's gloating cry to the swallow's twittering
alarm, with the most rapid versatility, and even hurry, as if the
creature was trying over every bird language, with the hope of finding
one mankind could understand. It was idle to expect to be heard amid
such clamor, and Vesta, having pounded on the floor a few times, made
her way to a sort of cupboard, that might turn out to be a stairway,
and, sure enough, a door opened on its dark side, and light from above
flickered down.

At this moment the bird's notes abruptly ceased, and a voice, unlike
anything she had ever heard in her life, yet human, spoke in response to
a more natural human voice, both issuing from above.

The second voice seemed to be Milburn's; the first voice was something
like it, yet not like anything from the throat of man, and the
superstition she had been rebuking in her servant came with a thrilling
influence upon her entire nature. She was about to fly, but called out
one word as she arrested herself:

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!"

The loud, unclassifiable voice above immediately answered:

"Gent! Gent-gent-gent-en! t-chee, t-chee! Gents, tss-tss-tss! Ha! ha!
Gentlemen!"

"May I come up?" Vesta cried.

"Come, p-chee! Come chee! come tsee! See me! see me! see me! Come
p-chee! come see! come see me!"

The last accentuation, in spite of the bird's interference, was
sufficiently distinct to amount to an invitation, and with a raising of
her eyelids once dependently to heaven, Vesta went up the stairs.

She put her head into a large, long room, which took up the whole
contents of the second story, and was lighted on three sides by the
small windows she had seen without. It had no carpet or floor-covering
of any kind; the fire was gone out upon the chimney-hearth in the end,
and the atmosphere, a little chill, was melting before the sunshine
which now streamed in at both sides of the fireplace and clearly
revealed every object in the apartment,--some clothes-pegs, a wooden
table with a blue plate, a blue cup and saucer and a saucepan upon it,
and a coarse knife and fork; a large green chest, and a leather hat-box;
an old h