Mr. Sanders will tell you to this day that he thought he saw something dim and dark huddled there--some wavering shape that had no outlines; but just at the critical moment, just when they were all about to see Cally-Lou, what should old Jonas do but stumble against a chair, as he craned his neck forward? Well, of course, with such awkwardness as this on the part of a man old enough to be Adelaide's grandfather, their scheme was ruined. Cally-Lou heard the noise, opened her eyes, and fled from the room so nimbly and with such dispatch that none of them could see her. Even Adelaide only caught the faintest glimpse of her as she whisked out of the room, and all she could say, was, "Did you ever see any one so foolish?" Then she ran after Cally-Lou, pursuing her into the sitting-room and then into the library, where she seemed to have caught her, for the others heard her upbraiding and scolding her in the style approved by all parents who are strict disciplinarians. "Jonas," said Mr. Sanders, "did you see anything? Didn't you notice somethin' in the corner--it mought 'a' been nothin' an' then, ag'in, it mought 'a' been the biggest thing mortual eyes ever gazed on--didn't you see somethin' like a shadder?" Old Jonas's reply was very prompt. He smacked his lips as though he tasted something nice. "No, Sanders! I didn't see anything, and what's more, I didn't expect to see anything." Mr. Sanders opened wide his eyes and stared at old Jonas as hard as if he had been some rare kind of curiosity placed on exhibition for the first time. "I hope you'll know me next time you see me!" exclaimed old Jonas, somewhat snappishly. "Do you want me to tell you I saw something, when in fact I saw nothing?" Mr. Sanders passed his hand over his face, as though the gesture would better enable him to contemplate the sorrowful condition of his companion. "Jonas," he said with a sigh as heavy as if he had been a sleepy cow in a big pasture, "ef you'd 'a' had your two eyes put out a quarter of an hour arter you were born, you couldn't talk any more like a blind man than you did jest then. You said you seed nothin,'an' a blind man could say the same, day or night." The reply that old Jonas made was characteristic; he pulled his hat a little further down over his ears, and said nothing. Fortunately for him perhaps, there was a timely diversion at that moment. Some one raised the big knocker on the door and let it fall again. Such a bang had not been heard in the house for many a long day; it set the frightened echoes flying. Adelaide heard them, and they must have been following her pretty close, for she ran into the sitting-room, crying: "Good gracious, Bishop! Gracious goodness, Nunky-Punky! what was that? Did some one shoot at my Boogerman? He's already been kill'ded once, and he ought not to be kill'ded again."