Peter, like most cowardly people who recover a sense of security, became suddenly very bold. He used to visit Bristol evenings, and return late, greatly to Aunt Prudence’s anxiety. It was the time of the once famous Episcopal and Methodist Episcopal revivals, and Peter claimed that he went to attend the meetings, which were the exciting topics of the old port and of the State. Aunt Prudence, who was a strict Calvinist, was not deeply in sympathy with these phenomenal meetings, which were called the “New Light Stir.” She advised Peter to “read his Bible at home.” But he still felt the necessity of going elsewhere for the interpretation of that good book, and so, to use his own expression, he continued to “follow up” the meetings. Aunt Prudence’s patience at thus being left alone during the long winter evenings at last came to an end. “Peter,” she said, one morning after Peter had attended a meeting that had held very late, “are you never afraid of meeting apparitions on your way home nights? Suppose you should—what would you do?” Peter thought of the old smoke chamber, but that would not serve him in such a case. He knew Aunt Prudence’s purpose in making these appalling suggestions. He was not a very politic boy, but he was quite equal to the situation on this particular occasion. “I would call for _you_, Aunt. You say that you are not afraid of ’em.” Aunt Prudence felt flattered, but she still recalled amid her feeling of satisfaction that she must not be left alone. “But, Peter, I would hate to see the ghost of Captain Kidd, or to see any of the old Indian apparitions. Don’t you know, Peter, that Mount Hope is a great Indian graveyard? I would not like to meet old Penelope Royall all in white going about in the wind; would you, Peter? It would be awful; now wouldn’t it, Peter?” Peter’s great eyes and ears began to grow. His old nervous fears were coming back again, but he still coveted the freedom of his evenings. “Aunt,” he said at last, very thoughtfully, “where do you suppose old Penelope Royall went when she died?” “To heaven, I hope, Peter, even if she was a royalist.” “Then why don’t she stay there? What would she want to be wanderin’ about in the wind in cold nights for?” “For vengeance,” said Aunt, in an annoyed tone. “For vengeance?” said Peter. “I shouldn’t think a woman after she had gone to heaven would have any more wicked feelings like that. I don’t believe she wanders about in the wind with thin clothes on anyway. Now say, do you, Aunt? Do you really think so? They dress comfortable _up there_. It don’t stand to reason, true as preachin’; now does it?” Aunt felt the force of Peter’s argument. In fact, Peter was expressing her own firm convictions about such matters. “But Captain Kidd, Peter, he was a dreadful man; I don’t think he has gone to heaven.” “Where did he go, Aunt?”