So saying, she backed into the passage, bearing the candle with her for company, and leaving the Prophet in total darkness. The low whistle sounded again, and a husky voice said,-- “Are you there?” “Yes,” replied the Prophet, summoning all his courage. “I am.” “What ‘a’ you put out the light for?” said the voice, which seemed to come from far away. “I haven’t put it out,” returned the Prophet. “It’s gone away.” At this juncture Malkiel, impelled by curiosity, ceased from trembling, and, leaning forward upon the loving-cup, glued his ear to the key-hole of the cupboard. “Why was you so late to-night?” proceeded the voice. “She’s been in a rare taking, I can tell you.” “Who?” “Who? You know well enough.” “Do you mean my grandmother?” “Your grandmother!” ejaculated the voice with apparent sarcasm. “Ah! of course, what do you think?” “I’m sure I don’t know,” said the poor Prophet, whose reason was beginning to totter upon its throne. “Well,” proceeded the voice, “she thought you’d give it up.” “What--my grandmother did?” “Ah, your grandmother. Get away with you! Ha! ha! ha!” And the mysterious visitant broke forth into a peal of rather mundane laughter. After indulging in this unseemly mirth for about a minute and a half, the personage resumed,-- “The Crab did for her.” Upon hearing the mystic word Madame crept stealthily a pace or two nearer to the door, while the Prophet exclaimed,-- “The dressed Crab?” “Ah, what do _you_ think? Not a wink of sleep and thought every minute’d be ‘er next.” “Good Heavens!” “She says she’d never go near a crab again, not if it’s ever so.” “You are sure?” said the Prophet, eagerly. “You are positive she said that?” “I’d stake my Davy, and I wouldn’t do that on everything. There ain’t a man living as’ll ever get her to go within fifty miles of a crab this side of Judgment.” At this point in the colloquy the curiosity of Madame overcame her, and she protruded her head suddenly beyond the edge of the doorway. “Ulloh!” exclaimed the voice. “Why, what’s ‘a’ you got there?” Madame hastily withdrew, and the voice continued,-- “Blessed if it ain’t a female!” “I beg your pardon!” said the Prophet, trembling with propriety. “I--I--there is no female here!” “Yes there is!” cried the voice, with a chuckle. “There’s a female creeping and crawling about behind that there door.” The Prophet’s sense of chivalry was now fully aroused. “You are mistaken,” he said firmly. “There are no females creeping and--and crawling about in this--this respectable house.” “Respectable!” ejaculated the voice, “respectable! I say there is a female. You’re a nice one, you are! ‘Pon my word, I’ve a good mind to run you in for Mormonism, I have. Wherever’s she got to?” On the last words a sudden blaze of light shot into the pantry, and at the same moment there was the sound of wheels rapidly approaching in the square. “Hulloh!” said the voice, “someone a-comin’.”