ogize in person for "bothering" me.

Presently a clock struck three, and I involuntarily gave a groan that
beat the ghost's all hollow, so full of anguish was I at the thought of
several hours of weary waiting in such awesome suspense.

I was not sure at what time the daylight would appear, and bitterly
regretted not gathering useful information about sunrise, tides, and
such things, instead of listening to the foolish gossip of Uncle Peter
on the hill-top.

Minute after minute dragged slowly on, and I was just thinking that I
should be obliged to shout "Fire!" as the only means of relief in my
power, when a stealthy step under the window gave me a new sensation.

This was a start, not a scare, for the new visitor was a human foe, and
I had little fear of such, being possessed of good lungs, strong arms,
and a Roman dagger nearly as big as a carving-knife. That step broke the
spell, and, creeping noiselessly to the window, I peeped out to see a
dark figure coming up the stem of the tall tree close by, hand over
hand, like a sailor or a monkey.

"Two can play at that game, my friend; you scare me, and I'll scare
you;" and with an actual sense of relief in breaking the oppressive
silence, I suddenly flung up the curtain, and, leaning out, brandished
my dagger with what I intended to be an awe-inspiring screech, but,
owing to the flutter of my breath, the effort ended in a curious
mixture of howl and bray.

A most effective sound nevertheless; for the rascal dropped as if shot,
and, with one upward glance at the white figure dimly seen in the
starlight, fled as if a legion of goblins were at his heels.

"What next?" thought I, wondering whether tragedy or comedy would close
this eventful night.

I sat and waited, chilly, but valiant, while the weird sounds went on
within, and silence reigned without, till the cheerful crow of the
punctual "cockadoo," as Margie called him, announced the dawn and laid
the ghosts. A red glow in the east banished my last fear, and, wrapping
the drapery of my couch about me, I soon lay down to quiet slumber,
quite worn out.

The sun shining in my face waked me; a bell ringing spasmodically warned
me to hurry, and a childish voice calling out, "Bet-fast is most weady,
Miss Wee," assured me that sweet little spirits haunted the cottage as
well as ghostly ones.

As I left my room to join Margie, who was waiting in the porch, and
looking like a rosy morning-glory half-way up the woodbin