ating to my mind to hear from the
next room that:

"The la dy ce sel i a now si zed the weep on and all though the boor ly
vil ly an re tain ed his vy gor ous hold she drew the blade through his
fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her dryp ping with jore."

This sort of thing, kept up for an hour or so at a time, used to drive
me nearly wild. But Euphemia did not mind it. I believe that she had
so delicate a sense of what was proper, that she did not hear Pomona's
private readings.

On one occasion, even Euphemia's influence could scarcely restrain me
from violent interference.

It was our boarder's night out (when he was detained in town by his
business), and Pomona was sitting up to let him in. This was necessary,
for our front-door (or main-hatchway) had no night-latch, but was
fastened by means of a bolt. Euphemia and I used to sit up for him, but
that was earlier in the season, when it was pleasant to be out on
deck until quite a late hour. But Pomona never objected to sitting (or
getting) up late, and so we allowed this weekly duty to devolve on her.

On this particular night I was very tired and sleepy, and soon after I
got into bed I dropped into a delightful slumber. But it was not long
before I was awakened by the fact that:

"Sa rah did not fl inch but gras ped the heat ed i ron in her un in jur
ed hand and when the ra bid an i mal a proach ed she thr ust the lur id
po ker in his--"

"My conscience!" said I to Euphemia, "can't that girl be stopped?"

"You wouldn't have her sit there and do nothing, would you?" said she.

"No; but she needn't read out that way."

"She can't read any other way," said Euphemia, drowsily.

"Yell af ter yell res oun ded as he wil dly spr rang--"

"I can't stand that, and I won't," said I. "Why don't she go into the
kitchen?--the dining-room's no place for her."

"She must not sit there," said Euphemia. "There's a window-pane out.
Can't you cover up your head?"

"I shall not be able to breathe if I do; but I suppose that's no
matter," I replied.

The reading continued.

"Ha, ha! Lord Mar mont thun der ed thou too shalt suf fer all that this
poor--"

I sprang out of bed.

Euphemia thought I was going for my pistol, and she gave one bound and
stuck her head out of the door.

"Pomona, fly!" she cried.

"Yes, sma'am," said Pomona; and she got up and flew--not very fast, I
imagine. Where she flew to I don't know, but she took the lamp with her,
and I could he