I know who you are. I saw you. I
shall go on ringing as long as I can stand. I shall die ringing, but I
shall never let you in. Go away! Go away!"

"What does she mean?" cried the Prophet, turning to Gustavus.

"I don't know indeed, sir," replied the footman, thinking of Mr.
Carter's library. "I couldn't say indeed, sir."

"Oh, my poor missis!" wailed Mrs. Fancy, trembling in her night-socks.
"Oh, my poor dear missis! I can't speak different nor mean other. Oh,
missis, missis!"

"Hush, Fancy!" said the Prophet, in the greatest distraction. "Grannie!
Grannie!"

And seizing the handle of the door he shook it violently. Mrs. Merillia
was now very naturally under the impression that the ratcatcher was
determined to break in and murder her without more ado. Extreme danger
often seems to exercise a strangely calming influence upon the human
soul. So it was now. Upon hearing her bedroom door quivering under the
assault of the Prophet, Mrs. Merillia was abruptly invaded by a sort of
desperate courage. She left the bells, tottered to the grate in which a
good fire was blazing, seized the poker and thrust it between the bars
and into the heart of the flames, at the same time crying out in a
quavering but determined voice,--

"I am heating the poker! If you come in you will repent it. I am heating
the poker!"

On hearing this remark, the Prophet desisted from his assault upon the
door, overcome by the absolute conviction that his beloved grandmother
was suffering from a pronounced form of homicidal mania. His affection
prompted him to keep such a catastrophe secret as long as possible, and
he therefore turned to Mrs. Fancy and Gustavus, and said hurriedly,--

"This is a matter for me alone. Mrs. Fancy, please go away at once.
Gustavus, you will accompany Mrs. Fancy."

His manner was so firm, his face so iron in its determination, that
Mrs. Fancy and Gustavus dared not proffer a word. They turned away and
disappeared softly down the stairs, to wait the _denouement_ of this
tragedy in the hall below. Meantime the poker was growing red hot in the
coals, and Mrs. Merillia announced to the supposed ratcatcher,--

"I can hear you--I hear you breathing--" (the Prophet endeavoured not to
breathe). "I hear you rustling, but you can't touch me. The poker is red
hot."

And she drew it smoking from the grate and approached the door, holding
it in her delicate hand like a weapon.

"Grannie!" said the Prophet, making his voice as