After Adelaide came to live with him he had few thoughts of this kind, and less desire to sleep. Frequently he lay awake for hours at a time, wondering if the child was comfortable. Adelaide slept in a poster bed, one of the old-fashioned kind, and many a night, when everything was still and dark as the gloomy plague that fell over Egypt, old Jonas would slip from under his carefully tucked cover, steal into the room where the child slept, and listen by her bedside to convince himself that she was really breathing, so softly and shyly did she draw her breath. And sometimes he would put out his hand and feel--oh, ever so gently!--if she had kicked off the covering. [Illustration: "Old Jonas would listen by her bedside to convince himself that she was really breathing"] Now, it frequently happened that Lucindy, the cook, had the same spells of uneasiness, and it chanced one night that they were both at the child's bed at the same time. Old Jonas was feeling, and Lucindy was feeling, and their hands met; the cold hand of old Jonas touched Lucindy's hand. This was enough! Lucindy said not a word--indeed, words were beyond her--she said afterward that she came within one of uttering a scream and dropping to the floor. But the fright that had weakened her, had also given her strength to escape. She stole back to her place on tip-toe, declaring in her mind that she would never again enter that room at night unless she had torch-bearers to escort her. It was contrary to all her knowledge and experience that old Jonas should concern himself about the child at his time of life, and with his whimsical habits and methods. In trying to account for the incident, her mind never wandered in the direction of old Jonas at all. To imagine that he was at the bedside of the child, investigating her comfort, was far less plausible than any other explanation she could offer. And then and there, the legend of Cally-Lou became charged with reality, so far as Lucindy was concerned; and it had a larger growth in one night, from the impetus that Lucindy gave it, than an ordinary legend could hope to have in a century.