Light at last though, for, drying my damp hands as well as I could, I tried again by rubbing the match upon the paper of the wall, and then, though the candle would not ignite with the extinguisher upon it, yet I managed to get it well alight at last, and then tremblingly began to search the room. The door was fast, and at the first glance there was nothing to be seen anywhere; but I examined behind the curtains, beneath the bed, in the cupboard, and, as a last resource, up the chimney, and found--nothing. "Why, it was fancy," I said, quite boldly, putting down the candle upon the dressing-table, and looking at my watch, which, for the moment, I made sure was wrong, for it pointed to seven. "Don't put out the candle," said Mrs S, and I left it burning; but I had hard work to make her believe it was so late. "But not another night will I stop," she exclaimed. "I could not bear it, for my nerves would be completely shattered if I had to put up with this long. The place must be haunted." Hot water and daylight put a stop to the dissertation which we had upon the subject, and soon after--that is to say, about nine o'clock--we made our way to the breakfast-parlour, where our host and hostess did not appear for another quarter of an hour, and then it was nearly half an hour more before we began breakfast, on account of delays in the kitchen relating to toast, eggs, bacon, hot water, and other necessaries for the matutinal repast. "You see, it happened so unfortunately," said our hostess; "but I'm sure you will look over it, as we wanted to be all clear for Christmas-day." "Oh, don't name it," said Mrs S; "we are often later than this, for Mr S will keep such late hours, especially if he is interested in anything he is reading or writing." "I'm sure I need not ask if you both slept comfortably," said our hostess, "for you both look so well." "Hem!" said Mrs Scribe; and I supplemented her cough with another much louder. "Surely the bed was not damp," exclaimed our hostess. "Oh, no," said Mrs S; "but--but--er--did you ever hear any particular noise about the house of a night?" Our hostess shook her head, and then looked at me, but my face appeared so placid and happy, that she looked back at Mrs S, who was telegraphing for me to speak. "No," said our host, putting down his letters, "no, I don't think we are much troubled with noises here of a night. I often thought I should like a good haunted house. But surely you heard nothing?" "Oh, yes," said my wife, excitedly; "but pray ask Mr S--he will explain;" and she again telegraphed for me to act as chief speaker. "Well, what was it, Scribe?" exclaimed our host. "What did you hear?" "What did I hear?" I said, for I had smelt out the rat--or the soot. "Oh, I heard nothing but the sweeps." Mrs S looked daggers. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. A GOBLIN DITTY. "You don't believe in ghostsh?" "No, I don't believe in ghostsh." "Nor yet in goblinsh?"