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 they would, if they could, have sunk into the earth. They were speechless with terror-they ceased to breathe, and felt that all was lost.

From this frightful state, of suspense they were, however, soon relieved, for their mistress, having opened her chamber door to ascertain what had caused those dreadful screams, was immediately answered by Judkins. They knew his voice, and could have blessed him. Harsh as it was—for Judkins had not a soft voice—celestial music could not then, in their ears, have sounded more sweetly.

"Why, what on earth can be the matter?" enquired Aunt Eleanor. "What can it be?"

"I don't know, ma'am, I'm sure," replied Judkins, "there's suffin wrong, somewhere: somebody shruck dreadful."

"The shrieking was dreadful indeed;—it must have been Mary."

"I've knocked at the door, but they seem dead asleep."

"Oh, Judkins!" cried cook. "Oh, wait but a moment—Oh, we're not asleep!" and she put on her petticoat hastily, while Mary threw her's round her shoulders, and then struck a light. "Oh! ma'am," continued cook, as she opened the door, "there's been thieves in the house—a whole gang of 'em! Oh, we're so frightened! 1 really thought that murdered we all should have been."

"You've been dreaming," said Judkins: "that's my notion. There's been no thieves here. Was that you that shruck?"

"Oh, no, that was Mary. She knows as well as me, there was five or six of 'em at least!"

"That there was," said Mary; "and murdered we must have been, if I hadn't screamed."

"It's my belief you dreamt it," said Judkins; "I didn't hear any noise.

"Nor did I," interposed Aunt Eleanor. "But let us go down, and see if the things are disturbed."

Down stairs they accordingly went:—Judkins boldly leading the way with a candle and a poker; but it was at a glance plain that no thieves had been there. The rooms were precisely as they had left them: there was not a thing out of its place. The china was safe; the plate was secure: the front door was fast—in short, everything appeared so exactly as it should be, that Aunt Eleanor freely subscribed to the opinion that the whole affair had originated in a dream.

"There, go to bed again, you silly people," she observed; "go to bed, and don't sleep on your backs. 1 am glad that that dear boy has not been disturbed. There, go to bed both of you, and, for heaven's, let us have no more screaming."

"Well, but I'm sure, ma'am," said Mary, "oh! if I didn't"

"There, don't say another word about it.—Good night."

As they separated, cook looked at Judkins—with great significance, and Judkins—who didn't at all approve of having his rest broken thus—looked with equal significance at her; but he passed her in silence: nor did she even bid him good night. On returning to her room, however, she said, in strict confidence to Mary, "Now I'll tell you what it is: you know, it's all perfect nonsense about our dreaming—that's of course