Willy slipped down from the man's knee, and walked out of the room in deep thought. Why Caleb should want his father's money, and say he had a right to it, was more than he could understand; and he went to sleep with his little brain in a whirl. Very soon tired and chilly teamsters began to pour into the bar-room, and rub their hands before the roaring fire. Caleb, who had quite forgotten his unlucky conversation with Master Willy, put fresh wood on the andirons, and brushed the hearth with a strip broom. Presently Mr. Parlin himself appeared in the doorway, bearing a huge pitcher of cider, which sparkled in a jolly way, as if it were glad to leave its hogshead prison in the dark cellar, and come up into such lively company. "Well, neighbors, this is a cold evening," said Mr. Parlin, setting the pitcher down on the counter, and looking round with a hospitable smile. "Caleb, fetch out the loggerhead." Caleb drew from the left ear of the fireplace a long iron bar, and thrust it into the hot coals. That was the loggerhead, and you will soon see what it was used for. While it was still heating, Dr. Hilton took from one corner of the room a child's arm-chair, and set it down at a comfortable distance from the fireplace. "We'll have it all ready for Bubby, when he makes us his visit," said he, laughing. Some one always placed the chair there for Willy, and it was usually Dr. Hilton. When the loggerhead was red hot, Caleb drew it out of the coals, and plunged it into the cold cider, which immediately began to bubble and hiss. Then he poured the sparkling liquid into mugs for the thirsty teamsters to drink; and while he was still holding the pitcher high in air, that the cider might come down with a good "bead," the door slowly opened, and in glided Willy, in his yellow flannel night-dress. The men smiled and nodded at one another, but said nothing, as the child crossed the floor, seated himself in the little red chair, and began to rock. He rocked with such careless grace, and held his little feet before the blaze so naturally, that you would have thought he came into the room merely to warm his toes and to hear the men talk. You would never have supposed he was asleep unless you had looked at his eyes. They were wide open, it is true, but fixed, like a doll's eyes. If you had held a lighted candle before them, I suppose they would not have winked. [Illustration: THE LITTLE SLEEP-WALKER.--Page 31.] In fact, Willy was fast asleep and dreaming; and all the difference between him and other sleepers was, that he acted out his dreams. "Queer what ails that child! Must be trouble on the brain, and he ought to be bled," said Dr. Hilton, with the wise roll of the eye he always gave when he talked of diseases. Nobody answered, for the doctor had said the same thing fifty times before. Still little Willy kept on rocking and dreaming, as unconscious as a yellow lily swinging on its stem.