ver, as soon as he
conveniently can."

Fergus was pleased enough to be sent for by the laird, and soon told
him all he knew from his aunt and the men, confessing that he had
himself been too lazy of a morning to take any steps towards
personal acquaintance with the facts, but adding that, as Mr.
Galbraith took an interest in the matter, "he would be only too
happy to carry out any suggestion he might think proper to make on
the subject.

"Fergus," returned the laird, "do you imagine things inanimate can
of themselves change their relations in space? In other words, are
the utensils in your kitchen endowed with powers of locomotion? Can
they take to themselves wings and fly? Or to use a figure more to
the point, are they provided with members necessary to the washing
of their own--persons, shall I say? Answer me those points,
Fergus."

"Certainly not, sir," answered Fergus solemnly, for the laird's face
was solemn, and his speech was very solemn.

"Then, Fergus, let me assure you, that to discover by what agency
these apparent wonders are effected, you have merely to watch. If
you fail, I will myself come to your assistance. Depend upon it,
the thing when explained will prove simplicity itself."

Fergus at once undertook to watch, but went home not quite so
comfortable as he had gone; for he did not altogether,
notwithstanding his unbelief in the so-called supernatural, relish
the approaching situation. Belief and unbelief are not always quite
plainly distinguishable from each other, and Fear is not always
certain which of them is his mother. He was not the less resolved,
however, to carry out what he had undertaken--that was, to sit up
all night, if necessary, in order to have an interview with the
extravagant and erring--spirit, surely, whether embodied or not,
that dared thus wrong "domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,"
by doing people's work for them unbidden. Not even to himself did
he confess that he felt frightened, for he was a youth of nearly
eighteen; but he could not quite hide from himself the fact that he
anticipated no pleasure in the duty which lay before him.

CHAPTER XX.

THE AMBUSH.

For more reasons than one, Fergus judged it prudent to tell not even
auntie Jean of his intention; but, waiting until the house was
quiet, stole softly from his room and repaired to the kitchen--at
the other end of the long straggling house, where he sat down, and
taking his book, an annu