woke with an empty feeling, an old
familiar feeling, which had often caused him to awake contemplating a
midnight raid on the cupboard. But poor Napoleon had been restrained
by conscientious scruples and by the fear of his mother's tongue, for
he appreciated the altered condition of the family. But now they were
all rich again there was no longer any necessity for pinching his
stomach. There were in the cupboard some biscuits intended for
breakfast, and some cold ham. He remembered how tempting they had
looked as his mother set them away. Now they fairly haunted him as
he lay thinking how favorable the moonlight was to his contemplated
burglary. He left his bed, not stealthily: he was not of a nature
to be specially mortified by discovery. He made his way to the
dining-room. In one of the recesses made by the chimney Dr. Lively had
constructed a kind of cupboard, and in the other recess he had put
up some shelves, where their few books and the case of sea-weeds
lay. Napoleon cut some generous slices of ham, and with the biscuits
constructed several sandwiches. Then he seated himself by the window
for the benefit of the moonlight. This brought him within a few
feet of the shelves where the sea-weeds were. There he sat in his
night-dress, his bare feet on the chair-round, vigorously eating his
sandwiches. Suddenly he heard a soft, stealthy, gliding noise in the
hall. It was as though trailing drapery was sweeping over the naked
floor. He gave a gulping swallow, paused in his eating and listened
intently. The stillness of death reigned through the house. He crammed
half a sandwich in his mouth and began a cautious chewing. Again the
trailing sound, and again his jaws were stilled. At the door entered
a tall figure in flowing white robes. Steadily it advanced upon him,
seeming to walk or glide on the air. For once there was something in
which he was more interested than in eating. At last the ghost stood
close beside him, and he saw with his staring eyes that it wore a
veil and carried its left hand in its bosom. The boy sat rooted with
horror, his tongue loaded, his cheeks puffed with his feast, afraid
to swallow lest the noise of the act should reveal him. The figure
withdrew its hand from its bosom: it held a roll of bankbills. It
reached out for the case of sea-weeds, laid the bills carefully
between the cards, returned these to the case and the case to the
shelf. It stood a moment in the broad moonlight, then lifted the