orth while
mentioning. He isn't going to be afraid of a comet at his time of life."
So we didn't think any more about the comet till we got to Aunt John's,
where we found company. It wasn't a relation, only an old school friend,
and her name was Miss Togy; she had come without an invitation, but had
to have the spare room because she was a lady. That was how Jill and I
came to be put in the little chimney bedroom.

That little chimney bedroom is the funniest place you ever slept in.
There had been a chimney once, and it ran up by the window, and
grandfather had it taken away. It was a big, old-fashioned chimney, and
it left the funniest little gouge in the room, so the bed went in as
nice as could be. We couldn't see much but the ceiling when we got to
bed.

"It's pretty dark," said Jill; "I shouldn't wonder if it did blow up a
storm a little--wouldn't it scare--Miss--Bogy!"

"Togy," said I.

"Well, T-o--" said Jill; and right in the middle of it he went off as
sound as a weasel.

The next thing I can remember is a horrible noise. I can't think of but
one thing in this world it was like, and that isn't in this world so
much. I mean the last trumpet, with the angel blowing as he blows in my
old primer. The next thing I remember is hearing Jill sit up in bed--for
I couldn't see him, it was so dark--and his piping out the other half of
Miss Togy's name just as he had left it when he went to sleep.

"Gy--Bogy!--Fogy!--Soaky!--Oh," said Jill, coming to at last, "I
thought--why, what's up?"

I was up, but I couldn't tell what else was for a little while. I went
to the window. It was as dark as a great rat-hole out-of-doors, all but
a streak of lightning and an awful thunder, as if the world was cracking
all to pieces.

"Come to bed!" shouted Jill, "you'll get struck, and then that will kill
me."

I went back to bed, for I didn't know what else to do, and we crawled
down under the clothes and covered ourselves all up.

"W-would--you--call--Aunt--John?" asked Jill. He was most choked. I came
up for air.

"No," said I, "I don't think I'd call Aunt John." I should have liked to
call her by that time, but then I should have felt ashamed.

"I s'pose she has got her hands full with Miss Croaky, anyway,"
chattered Jill, bobbing up and under again. By that time the storm was
the worst storm I had ever seen in my life. It grew worse and
worse--thunder, lightning, and wind--wind, lightning, and thunder; rain
and roar an