my head; I tried to forgot them and think of something else, but it was impossible. The movement was slow, regular, and punctual. At last I could stand it no longer; I rushed to the window, determined to stay there till the mystery was explained, for I felt convinced that I should find it there. I directed my eyes piercingly to every part of the curtains; and at length I perceived that the window had been let down at the top. I closed it, arranged the curtains differently, and then, in some trepidation, returned to my shadow. It had disappeared; and I now understood that the formidable figure was merely a part of the curtain, which, influenced by the night wind, swayed to and fro, causing the shadow on the wall. I do not think I ever experienced a cowardly feeling afterwards; that night perfectly satisfied me that superstition was the most unreasonable torture that could be inflicted on oneself; and I was ever afterwards celebrated for my bravery. Even my father praised my conduct, and said that it was pretty well for a girl of ten years, under such circumstances--at the same time representing to me how much more reasonable such a course was, than screaming would have been, to rouse the household for nothing. I went quietly to sleep, and dreamed neither of goblins nor ghosts, but of a dear little spotted kitten with a blue ribbon around its neck. CHAPTER XI. I did not wake very early the next morning, and when I opened my eyes, I perceived Cousin Statia standing by my bedside, who had been endeavoring to waken me. Her manner was rather solemn as she announced that Aunt Henshaw was waiting for me to commence the morning services. At this information I felt very much mortified; and springing quickly out of bed, I was soon dressed and in the breakfast room. Aunt Henshaw sat with a large Bible open before her; and after kissing me kindly, she read a chapter, and then offered a short prayer. After breakfast, Cousin Statia proceeded to wash up the cups and saucers, which she always did for fear of their being broken; Aunt Henshaw proceeded to the poultry yard, and I accompanied her. She had a large tin pan in her hand, filled with moistened Indian meal, with which she fed the chickens; of which there seemed an endless number, both old and young. Then we went to the barn-yard, and she showed me a young calf; but it was an awkward-looking thing, that scampered about without sense or meaning. But I had not forgotten the kittens, and I asked Aunt Henshaw where they were. She said that she would look; and going into the barn, we peered around, in mangers and out-of-the-way places, without the least success; and we concluded that the old cat must have hid them up in the mow. "Perhaps Holly knows, though," said the old lady, on noticing my disappointment, "very little escapes her eyes, and we can at least call her and see."