he made a terrible rumpus when
he couldn't find it; but arter that the spell was broke, like; and he
lived pretty much as other folks. Did you say six feet?"

"That will be high enough. And you may leave a space of eight or ten
feet on that side, from window to window."

"Thout any?"

"Yes."

"That'll be kind o' lop-sided, won't it? I allays likes to see things
samely. What'll you do with all that space of emptiness? It'll look
awful bare."

"I will put something else there. What do you suppose the white mouse
had to do with your old gentleman's seclusion?"

"Seclusion? Livin' shut up, you mean? Why, don't ye see, he believed
the mouse was the sperrit o' the child--leastways the sperrit o' the
child was in it. You see, when he got back from the funeral the first
thing his eyes lit upon was that ere white mouse; and it was white, you
see, and that ain't a common colour for a mouse; and it got into his
head, and couldn't get out, that that was Ella's sperrit. It mought ha'
ben, for all I can say; but arter that day, it was gone."

"You think the child's spirit might have been in the mouse?"

"Who knows? I never say nothin' I don't know, nor deny nothin' I _du_
know; ain't that a good principle?"

"But you know better than that, Mr. Midgin," said Lois.

"Wall, I don't! Maybe you do, Lois; but accordin' to my lights I
_don't_ know. You'll hev 'em walnut, won't you? that'll look more like
furniture."

"Are you coming? The waggon's here, Lois," said Madge, opening the
door. "Is Mrs. Barclay ready?"

"Will be in two minutes," replied that lady. "Yes, Mr. Midgin, let them
be walnut; and good evening! Yes, Lois, I am quite roused up now, and I
will go with you. I will walk, dear; I prefer it."

CHAPTER XXV.

ROAST PIG.

Mrs. Barclay seemed to have entirely regained her usual composure and
even her usual spirits, which indeed were never high. She said she
enjoyed the walk, which she and Lois took in company, Madge having gone
with her grandmother and Charity in Mrs. Marx's waggon. The winter
evening was falling grey, and the grey was growing dark; and there was
something in the dusky stillness, and soft, half-defined lines of the
landscape, with the sharp, crisp air, which suited the mood of both
ladies. The stars were not visible yet; the western horizon had still a
glow left from the sunset; and houses and trees stood like dark solemn
ghosts along the way before the end of the walk was reached.