There are three old maids at Lee, And they are cross as cross can be; And there they are, and there they'll be, To the end of the chapter, one, two, three, These three old maids of Lee! "THE DAY OF JUDGMENT"[66] ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS I am thirteen years old and Jill is eleven and a quarter. Jill is my brother. That isn't his name, you know; his name is Timothy and mine is George Zacharias; but they call us Jack and Jill. Well, Jill and I had an invitation to Aunt John's this summer, and that was how we happened to be there. I'd rather go to Aunt John's than any place in the world. When I was a little fellow I used to think I'd rather go to Aunt John's than to Heaven. But I never dared to tell. She invited us to come on the twelfth of August. It takes all day to get there. She lives at Little River in New Hampshire, way up. You have to wait at South Lawrence in a poky little depot, and you get some played out--at least I don't, but Jill does. So we bought a paper and Jill sat up and read it. When he'd sat a minute and read along-- "Look here!" said he. "Look where?" said I. "Why, there's going to be a comet," said Jill. "Who cares?" said I. Jill laid down the paper, and crunched a pop-corn all up before he answered that, then said he, "I don't see why father didn't tell us. I suppose he thought we'd be frightened, or something. Why, s'posing the world did come to an end? That's what this paper says. 'It is pre--' where is my place? Oh! I see--'predicted by learned men that a comet will come into con-conjunction with our plant'--no--'our planet this night. Whether we shall be plunged into a wild vortex of angry space, or suffocated with n-o-x--noxious gases, or scorched to a helpless crisp, or blasted at once, eternal an-ni-hi--'" A gust of wind grabbed the paper out of Jill's hand just then, and took it out of the window; so I never heard the rest. "Father isn't a goose," said I. "He didn't think it worth while mentioning. He isn't going to be afraid of a comet at his time of life." So we didn't think any more about the comet till we got to Aunt John's, where we found company. It wasn't a relation, only an old school friend, and her name was Miss Togy; she had come without an invitation, but had to have the spare room because she was a lady. That was how Jill and I came to be put in the little chimney bedroom. That little chimney bedroom is the funniest place you ever slept in. There had been a chimney once, and it ran up by the window, and grandfather had it taken away. It was a big, old-fashioned chimney, and it left the funniest little gouge in the room, so the bed went in as nice as could be. We couldn't see much but the ceiling when we got to bed. "It's pretty dark," said Jill; "I shouldn't wonder if it did blow up a storm a little--wouldn't it scare--Miss--Bogy!" "Togy," said I. "Well, T-o--" said Jill; and right in the middle of it he went off as sound as a weasel.