"Child of the red tam-o'-shanter, I'm very sorry I

was rude to you yesterday, for I liked your steady stroke

with the paddle; and I admired, even more, the way you

spurned me when you saw that among all the cads in

the world I am number one in Class A. And these

golden bubbles (O girl of the red tam-o'-shanter!), if

they are not yours you shall help me find the owner, for

we are neighbors, you and I, and there must be peace

between our houses."

With this foolishness I rose, thrust the beads into my

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pocket, and paddled home in the waning glory of the

sunset.

That night, as I was going quite late to bed, bearing

a candle to light me through the dark hall to my room,

I heard a curious sound, as of some one walking stealthily

through the house. At first I thought Bates was still

abroad, but I waited, listening for several minutes, without

being able to mark the exact direction of the sound

or to identify it with him. I went on to the door of my

room, and still a muffled step seemed to follow me,-first

it had come from below, then it was much like some one

going up stairs,-but where? In my own room I still

heard steps, light, slow, but distinct. Again there was a

stumble and a hurried recovery,-ghosts, I reflected, do

not fall down stairs!

The sound died away, seemingly in some remote part

of the house, and though I prowled about for an hour

it did not recur that night.




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