"Not to-day," said Mary firmly. "You'd be seeing things in the corners. I never saw your like!" So for the rest of the morning, Mary dusted other rooms in which all the furniture seemed dead or asleep and, therefore, quite uninteresting. After luncheon, however, Hortense asked Grandfather to tell her about the knife with the crinkly blade. "That," said Grandfather, "is a Malay kris, such as the pirates in the East Indies carry. An old sea captain gave it to me. It once belonged to a Malay pirate. When he was captured, my friend secured it and gave it to me in return for a service I did for him." "It looks as though it could tell terrible stories," said Hortense. "No doubt it would if it could talk," said Grandfather. "It is very old and doubtless has been in a hundred fights and killed men." "You wouldn't let me carry it?" Hortense asked. "Gracious no," said Grandfather. "It is dangerous. What made you think of such a thing?" What Hortense thought was that it would be a very nice and handy weapon to hunt the cat with at night, but she couldn't tell Grandfather that; so she said nothing. "It's a nice afternoon," said Grandfather, "and little girls should be out-of-doors. Run out and see the barn and the orchard." Hortense did as she was told, wandering about the yard, exploring the loft of the barn, and the orchard. At last she came back to the house, for this interested her more than anything else. There were many bushes and shrubs planted close to the walls, forming fine secret corners in which to hide and look unseen upon the world without. Hortense hid a while in each of them, wishing she had some one with whom to play hide and seek. She found one bush which was particularly inviting, for it was beside an open window of the basement. She looked in and was surprised to see that the window opened not into the basement but into a wooden box or chute that sloped steeply, and then dropped out of sight into the gloom below. Hortense peered in as far as she could and as she did so, much to her surprise, a head appeared in the darkness where the wooden box dropped out of sight. It was the head of a dirty little boy. As she stared at it, she recognized the little boy who had turned handsprings in the yard next door as she and Uncle Jonah had driven by yesterday. "Hello," said Hortense. "Hello," said the boy. "Help me out. I slipped." He endeavored to lift himself to the chute whose edge came to his chin, but it was too slippery and he could not. Hortense stretched out her arm to help him, but the distance was too great. "However did you get there?" Hortense asked. "I wanted to see where it went," said the boy, "but once I got in I slipped and fell to the bottom." "Where does it go?" Hortense asked. "Only to the furnace," said the boy in disgust. "Oh," said Hortense. "I thought it might go to a secret room or something." "Can't you get a rope?" the boy asked. Hortense considered.