Time was going on; it would soon be eight o'clock. Oh, horrors, why would the Rickettses and Mrs. Jones's three boys choose the path through the shrubbery to approach the house! The morning room, where Helen was taking her tea, looked out on the shrubbery, and although it was now quite dark in the world of nature, those dreadful rough boys would crack boughs, and stumble and titter as they walked. Polly's face grew hotter and her hands colder; never did she bless her sister's rather slow and unsuspicious nature more than at this moment, for Helen heard no boughs crack, nor did the stealthy, smothered laughter, so distinctly audible to poor Polly, reach her ears. At ten minutes to eight Helen rose from the table. "I'm going up to Nurse to show her what things I have bought for baby," she said. "We are going to short-coat baby next week, so I have a good deal to show her, and I won't be down again for a little bit." "All right," said Polly, "I have plenty to do; don't worry about me till you see me, Nell." She danced out of the room, and in excellent spirits joined a large and boisterous party in the front attic. Now, she assured her family and her guests, all would go well; they were safely housed in a distant and unused part of the establishment, and might be as merry and as noisy as they pleased; no one would hear them, no one would miss them, no one would suspect them. And all might have gone according to Polly's programme, and to this day that glorious feast in the attic might have remained a secret in the private annals of the house of Maybright, but for that untoward thing which I am about to tell. At that very moment while the Maybrights, the Rickettses, and the Joneses were having delightful and perfectly untrammeled intercourse with each other, a very fidgety old lady was approaching the Hollow, being carefully conducted thither in a rickety fly. A large traveling trunk was on the box seat of the fly, and inside were two or three bandboxes, a couple of baskets, a strap bursting with railway rugs, cloaks, and umbrellas, and last, but not least, a snarling little toy terrier, who barked and whined, and jumped about, and licked his mistress's hand. "Down, Scorpion," exclaimed Mrs. Cameron; "behave yourself, sir. You really become more vicious every day. Get in that corner, and don't stir till I give you leave. Now, then, driver," opening the window and poking her head out, "when are we getting to Sleepy Hollow? Oh! never, never have I found myself in a more outlandish place." "We be a matter of two miles from there, ma'am," said the man. "You set easy, and keep yourself quiet, for the beast won't go no faster." Mrs. Cameron subsided again into the depths of the musty old fly with a groan.