I got out of bed, and looked out at the window, hoping to obtain a sight of the visitor; but the night was too dark for me to distinguish his form or features. Again he swore, and again he hammered away at the door. What they do in New Jersey when it rains is to _let_ it rain; and what I did when he pounded was to _let_ him pound. I was perfectly willing he should pound; I even hoped that he enjoyed it. In spite of the anxiety I felt for poor Kate, I could not help laughing at the ludicrous earnestness with which he swore and pounded. Like most men, my uncle was cool when he was not excited; and as there had been nothing on the present occasion to excite him, I suppose he was cool. Doubtless he stopped to dress himself before he answered the summons. Very likely the dread necessity of speaking to the visitor appalled him, and he desired to postpone the trying ordeal as long as possible. I am obliged to acknowledge my belief that Mrs. Loraine's messenger was exceedingly unreasonable, for he did not intermit his hammering long enough to ascertain whether any one was coming to the door or not. What was not more than five minutes in fact, might have seemed to be half an hour to him. Within as short a time as could have been properly expected, I heard the door of my uncle's library open, and uneasily I listened for the result. The bolt on the front door creaked and grated. The door opened with difficulty, and while my uncle was tugging at it, I lifted the sash of my window a couple of inches, that I might hear what passed. The door swung back, and I put my head to the window to catch the first words that were spoken. Of course my uncle was not the first to utter them; he seldom spoke, and never was surprised into speaking, even on an emergency. "Well, governor," said the messenger, crustily, "you sleep like a rock. Where is that confounded boy of yours?" "In bed," replied my uncle. "Rout him out; I want him," continued the visitor, pushing his way into the house. This movement prevented me from hearing what followed immediately; but I hastened to my door, hoping to catch a word which would enable me to determine who the person was. "The young villain has run away with Mrs. Loraine's step-daughter," I heard him say, as I opened the door wide enough to permit me to catch the sound. "I tell you, governor, you must get rid of the young vagabond, or he will swamp the whole of us." "Hush! he will hear you," said uncle Amos. "No matter. I have pounded away hard enough to wake the dead. If that didn't rouse him, nothing will," added the messenger, gruffly. "Silence!" "I have had about enough of this thing," continued the rough visitor. "You insist on keeping the whelp here, when you know he is a bombshell in your path and mine. Why don't you send him to sea, and let him get drowned?" "Be still, Thomas," replied my uncle, in a whisper. "I won't be still, governor. The vagabond has run away with that girl, and--"