"Nonsense," said my wife, "Who ever heard of a ticking table? It's on the floor. Biddy! Julia! Anna! move everything out of the room--table and all. Where are the tack-hammers?" "Heavens, mamma--you are not going to take up the carpet?" screamed Julia. "Here's the hammers, marm," said Biddy, advancing tremblingly. "Hand them to me, then," cried my wife; for poor Biddy was, at long gun-distance, holding them out as if her mistress had the plague. "Now, husband, do you take up that side of the carpet, and I will this." Down on her knees she then dropped, while I followed suit. The carpet being removed, and the ear applied to the naked floor, not the slightest ticking could be heard. "The table--after all, it is the table," cried my wife. "Biddy, bring it back." "Oh no, marm, not I, please, marm," sobbed Biddy. "Foolish creature!--Husband, do you bring it." "My dear," said I, "we have plenty of other tables; why be so particular?" "Where is that table?" cried my wife, contemptuously, regardless of my gentle remonstrance. "In the wood-house, marm. I put it away as far as ever I could, marm," sobbed Biddy. "Shall I go to the wood-house for it, or will you?" said my wife, addressing me in a frightful, businesslike manner. Immediately I darted out of the door, and found the little apple-tree table, upside down, in one of my chip-bins. I hurriedly returned with it, and once more my wife examined it attentively. Tick, tick, tick! Yes, it was the table. "Please, marm," said Biddy, now entering the room, with hat and shawl--"please, marm, will you pay me my wages?" "Take your hat and shawl off directly," said my wife; "set this table again." "Set it," roared I, in a passion, "set it, or I'll go for the police." "Heavens! heavens!" cried my daughters, in one breath. "What will become of us!--Spirits! spirits!" "Will you set the table?" cried I, advancing upon Biddy. "I will, I will--yes, marm--yes, master--I will, I will. Spirits!--Holy Vargin!" "Now, husband," said my wife, "I am convinced that, whatever it is that causes this ticking, neither the ticking nor the table can hurt us; for we are all good Christians, I hope. I am determined to find out the cause of it, too, which time and patience will bring to light. I shall breakfast on no other table but this, so long as we live in this house. So, sit down, now that all things are ready again, and let us quietly breakfast. My dears," turning to Julia and Anna, "go to your room, and return composed. Let me have no more of this childishness." Upon occasion my wife was mistress in her house.