itch. That lad hasn't slept once in a house this twenty year, and
never will while grass grows."

"Is he mad?" I asked.

"Something that way, sir; he's an idiot, an awpy; we call him 'Dickon
the devil,' because the devil's almost the only word that's ever in his
mouth."

It struck me that this idiot was in some way connected with the story of
old Squire Bowes.

"Queer things are told of him, I dare say?" I suggested.

"More or less, sir; more or less. Queer stories, some."

"Twenty years since he slept in a house? That's about the time the
Squire died," I continued.

"So it will be, sir; not very long after."

"You must tell me all about that, Tom, to-night, when I can hear it
comfortably, after supper."

Tom did not seem to like my invitation; and looking straight before him
as we trudged on, he said:

"You see, sir, the house has been quiet, and nout's been troubling folk
inside the walls or out, all round the woods of Barwyke, this ten year,
or more; and my old woman, down there, is clear against talking about
such matters, and thinks it best--and so do I--to let sleepin' dogs be."

He dropped his voice toward the close of the sentence, and nodded
significantly.

We soon reached a point where he unlocked a wicket in the park wall, by
which we entered the grounds of Barwyke once more.

The twilight deepening over the landscape, the huge and solemn trees,
and the distant outline of the haunted house, exercised a sombre
influence on me, which, together with the fatigue of a day of travel,
and the brisk walk we had had, disinclined me to interrupt the silence
in which my companion now indulged.

A certain air of comparative comfort, on our arrival, in great measure
dissipated the gloom that was stealing over me. Although it was by no
means a cold night, I was very glad to see some wood blazing in the
grate; and a pair of candles aiding the light of the fire, made the room
look cheerful. A small table, with a very white cloth, and preparations
for supper, was also a very agreeable object.

I should have liked very well, under these influences, to have listened
to Tom Wyndsour's story; but after supper I grew too sleepy to attempt
to lead him to the subject; and after yawning for a time, I found there
was no use in contending against my drowsiness, so I betook myself to my
bedroom, and by ten o'clock was fast asleep.

What interruption I experienced that night I shall tell you presently.
It was not muc