CHAPTER V.

STORIES TELLING.

"This is the cock that crowed in the morn."

Late that night, no, very early the next morning, just as dawn was
breaking, the peacefully sleeping inhabitants of Mr. Caryll's house were
awakened by strange and alarming sounds which seemed to come from the
direction of the nursery. The children's mother was one of the first to
wake, and yet the sounds which had roused her having been heard
indistinctly through her sleep, she was not able to say what they were.

"It must be one of the children with croup--I am sure it sounded like
what I have heard croup described, or like that dreadful illness they
call the crowing cough," she said to Mr. Caryll, as she rushed out of
the room in a fright.

She had only got to the end of the long passage leading to the
children's rooms when she ran against Miss King, closely followed by her
maid and one, two, three other servants all pale and alarmed.

"What can it be?" each said to the other.

"Martin, Martin," cried Mrs. Caryll, "are you there? What _is_ the
matter?"

But before any Martin was to be seen, again the sounds shrilled through
the house.

"Kurroo--kurallarrallo-oo-_ook!_" with a queer sudden sort of pull-up at
the end, it seemed to sound.

They all turned to look at each other.

"It must be a real cock," said Miss King, looking less frightened.

"It certainly doesn't sound like croup," said Mrs. Caryll.

"It's just one of them mischievous bantams, ma'am," said the cook, a
countrywoman who had made a study of cocks and hens. "They always give
that sort of catchy croak at the end of their crows. But, to be sure,
what a fright it's gave us all! And where can the creature be?"

As she spoke, Martin appeared at the end of the passage, a basket in her
arms, her face pale, leading by the hand a small figure in a white
nightgown, a figure that pulled and pushed and kicked valiantly in its
extreme reluctance to come any farther.

"I won't be takened to Mamma. I won't, I won't. I'm not naughty. It's
zou that's ugly and naughty," it screamed.

Mrs. Caryll gave a despairing glance at her cousin.

"Hoodie again!" she said.

Martin hastened forward as fast as she could, considering the
difficulties in her way.

"Oh, ma'am," she exclaimed, looking nearly ready to cry, "I am so sorry,
so sorry and ashamed to have such an upset in the house at this time of
the night, or morning, I should say. It really must seem with all these