“Good gracious, Maria, what’s the matter?” exclaimed her husband, gazing at her in astonishment. “I--don’t--know,” she gasped. “You look as if you had seen a ghost.” “I haven’t seen anything,” said his wife, recovering her breath, “but I’ve heard something terrible. It’s my belief the attic is haunted. I went upstairs and put back the wallet, and was looking to see if I could find another, when all at once the candle went out, and a terrible noise shook the chamber.” “What was it like, Mrs. F.?” “I can’t tell you. I never heard anything like it before. All I know is, I wouldn’t go up there again tonight for anything.” “Did the boy sleep through it all?” “How can I tell? The candle was out.” “Perhaps he blew it out.” “Perhaps you’re a fool Mr. Fox. It wasn’t near the bed, and he was fast asleep, for I looked at him. It made me think of--of Peter,” and Mrs. Fox shuddered. Peter had been taken from the poorhouse three years ago by Mr. Fox, and apprenticed to him by the town authorities. According to popular report he had been cruelly treated and insufficiently fed, until he was taken sick and had died in the very bedroom where Mrs. Fox had been so frightened. This may explain how it was that a woman so strong-minded had had her nerves so easily upset. “We won’t talk of Peter,” said Mr. Fox, shortly, for to him, also, the subject was an unpleasant one. “I suppose you didn’t find another wallet?” “No, I didn’t. You can order the boy to give it up to-morrow. The best thing to do now is to go to bed and rest.” The breakfast hour at the house of Mr. Fox was half past six. Harry was called at six, and was punctual at the table. Mr. Fox cast a suspicious glance at his ward, but the boy looked so perfectly unconcerned, that he acquitted him of any knowledge of the night visit. “How did you sleep, Harry?” asked Mrs. Fox. “Soundly, thank you,” answered Harry, politely. “You didn’t hear any--strange noises, then?” “No.” “Now, Harry,” said Mr. Fox, after breakfast, “we may as well speak of our future arrangements. I have considerable to do on my twenty acres of land, and I can give you work here.” “What compensation do you offer, sir?” “As a boarder I should have to charge you five dollars a week for your board, and fifty cents extra for your washing--that would go to Mrs. Fox; as well as pay twenty-five cents a week for your mending. That also would go to my wife. Now, if you work for me, I will take off three dollars, making the charge to you only two dollars and seventy-five cents per week.” “Don’t you think, Mr. Fox, that is rather low pay for my services?” “I might say two dollars and a quarter,” said Mr. Fox, deliberating. Harry smiled to himself. He had not the slightest idea of working for any such trifle, but he did not care to announce his determination yet. “I will pay full price for a week, Mr. Fox,” he said, “and during that time I will consider your offer.”