“It is a shame for Mary to have to give up her hundred dollars,” thought John. “I wish I could help earn some money so that she needn’t do it. If I was in the city I could sell papers or something. But what can I do here when I have to go to school every day? School takes up such a lot of time!” John sighed as he swung his books over his shoulder and started off for school. All day he thought about that needed money; and it was in his mind when he turned in at the gate that night. “I wish I was clever and could think up something,” said John to Caliban, who was sitting on the top step looking at him when John came in. “I wonder you don’t help us, Caliban. Come, now, can’t you think of something, old witch-cat?” Caliban did not seem to mind being spoken to in this impolite way. But he did look at John in a fashion that the boy thought very knowing, and he did unmistakably wink one eye. “Miaou!” said Caliban, and he turned his back on John, and began to walk upstairs. John was going upstairs too; so he followed Caliban, who, however, hopped three steps at a time, while John could only take two with his short legs. When they reached the top of the flight, Caliban looked about to see if John was still following him. John had not meant to do so, but when he saw Caliban turn and look, with that queer expression in his green eyes, John had an idea. “Maybe he wants me to follow him,” said he to himself. He tossed his books on to a chair and tiptoed after the big black cat. Caliban ambled unconcernedly along the hall and suddenly darted up the attic stairs. “Hello!” said John, with a whistle under his breath. “What is Caliban up to now? I thought he never went far from Mary’s library. But, I declare, he is coaxing me to follow him up into the attic! You bet I’ll follow you, old boy!” John had never paid much attention to the attic. He had looked into it, of course. But it was so dark and dusty and cobwebby that it was not much fun poking about up there. Since their first visit the family had not been there except to store away some of Aunt Nan’s superfluous old furniture and ornaments. If the house had seemed like a museum to the family when they first entered it, this attic looked like a junk-shop. Every corner was filled with furniture, boxes, bundles, strange garments hanging from hooks, bales bursting with mysterious contents. Away back in the dusty corners, where it was so dark that John’s eye could not distinguish, bulked other dim shapes. Caliban walked across the floor in a furtive fashion, then suddenly made a dive into a distant dark corner, where John immediately heard a scurrying and scratching.