"Oh! you're not," said Billy. "Well, suppose I find it anyway." "You can't, no one ever finds Bogie Man unless he doesn't want to find him." "We will see about that," said Billy, angrily, "and when I do find him and deliver the note, I'm going to tell him just what I think of him." "He doesn't care what you think of him. Thoughts never hurt any one but their thinkers." "That is too deep for me," said Billy. "There it is," said Mumbledy Peg in disgust, "when I _do_ say something sensible, you don't understand me." "Then you won't help me to find Bogie Man?" "Not an inch, and I will say further that if all our leading citizens had not left for Mars in search of work, you wouldn't be alive in this town for three minutes." "I'm not trying to harm you," said Billy. "We won't discuss the matter further. Good night," and Mumbledy Peg drove himself right into the ground and disappeared, leaving Billy alone in the dark street. "I can't get him back unless I pull him out with my teeth, I suppose," said Billy, "and I'm not going to try that. Now, what am I to do without a guide? It is fearfully dark and lonely, and I seem to be as far from seeing Bogie Man as ever. I wonder what street this is?" He tried to see the sign on the lamp post. Of course the lamp was not lit, for they never are in Never Was until daylight. But he couldn't possibly make it out, so he fumbled about in his pockets until he found a match. He lighted this, and by its feeble flame read the sign "The Road-to-Bed." "The Road-to-Bed," he repeated to himself, "that's a strange name for a street. I wonder if Bogie Man lives anywhere near. Why, of course, he must live in this street, because he is nearly always seen on the road to bed." Now Billy did not exactly mean that Bogie Man _was_ seen, because, although many little boys and little girls have _thought_ they saw Bogie Man, have thought they heard him creeping up behind them to seize their shoulders, or was hid under the bed to catch ankles when they hopped into bed--he wasn't really there at all. The fact of the matter is that he had never in his life left Never Was until Billy took--but there, you will learn later what Billy did to him. CHAPTER XX. THE WINDOW OF FEAR. "I wish I had a candle," said Billy, trying to look around him; for it was so very dark he really could not see anything but black shadows and the black shadows of the shadows. Indeed, it had suddenly grown darker than ever before, and the wind began to moan as it sometimes does when a storm is brewing. "Of course I'm not afraid of Bogie Man--but I think I'd rather have a candle with me--just--just for companionship. I wonder if the Singing Tree could help me." So he sat him down in the middle of the street, planted Barker's bark and told the tree what he wanted. At once it sang-- "Little Nancy Etticoat In a white petticoat And a red nose, The longer she stands, The shorter she grows." And with a low bow handed him a lighted candle.