The fire within shone brightly through the windows, and the flickering light made the heart of Cuthbert, for such was his name, leap with the anticipation of the joys of the ingle-nook,--the endearments of home. He lifted the latch without knocking, and entered; an aged man and woman sat by the fire, a comely old couple, who were eager, in spite of their infirmities, to greet the darling of their old age. And was not there a meal spread on the table near the fire? It was not “tea,” that beverage was yet unknown, but there was plenty to tempt a boy’s appetite, and the frosty air had sharpened Cuthbert’s. And when it was over, and the old man sat in his high-backed arm-chair, the grandmother went out and the lad went into the “chimney corner” to his favourite seat. “Chimney corner!” what a nook of delight on the winter’s evening, when the snow-flakes steal gently down the chimney and hiss as they meet the blazing logs! Well does the writer remember filling such a seat many winters ago. “Grandfather, do you remember that this night is Hallow-e’en, when all the ghosts are abroad? I want you to tell me something about them--the old tales which used to make my flesh creep when I was younger.” “Why, boy, it is thought to be a night when the dead can’t rest quiet in their graves, though why they should not rest on a holy night like this I can hardly tell.” “Did you ever see a ghost? Oh, here is grandmother with nuts, apples, and ale! Why do we always eat nuts and apples on Hallow-e’en?” “They always have been eaten to-night, that is all I know; sometimes they tie up an apple with a string to the beam, and when they have tied the hands, set the young ones to eat it with the help of their teeth only--catch who catch can.” “And about the nuts?” “Oh, lads and maidens who are in love with each other will take two nuts, and call them _lad_ and _lass_: if they burn quietly together they conclude that they will have a happy wedded life, but if _lad_ or _lass_ bounce out of the fire, that there will be strife and quarrels between them, in which case, dear boy, I think they had better not go together to the altar; better live apart than have nought but strife and quarrels.”[4] “But I wanted to ask you about something more wonderful than this; the boys were saying, when we were talking about Hallow-e’en in the cloisters, that if you went into the church porch at midnight, you would see the _fetches_[5] of all the folk who are to die this year come and choose the place for their graves.” “I have heard the tale, and don’t believe it; it is all nonsense, my boy.” “Anyhow I promised that I would go and see to-night.” “Nay, my child, you must be in bed and asleep at midnight, and I do not think you would _dare_ to try.” “That is what they said, the other boys I mean, and they _dared_ me to go.” “I don’t think you would catch a ghost, but I think you would catch your death of cold, it is freezing sharply to-night.”