them to watch. Some moments passed. Twice we heard
slight sounds inside. Then the dim figure in long clothes came slowly
out and returned up the road toward the old Squire's.

"Who was it?" Addison said to me.

"Miss Emmons," I replied.

"Yes," Addison assented reluctantly.

We went into the schoolhouse, struck matches, and at last lighted a pine
splint. The drawer to the teacher's desk was locked, but it was a worn
old lock, and by inserting the little blade of his knife Addison at last
pushed the bolt back.

Inside were the teacher's books and records. A Fifth Reader that we took
up opened readily to Jim Doane's bank book.

"She brought that here to hide it!" I exclaimed.

Addison did not reply for a moment. "Perhaps she did," he admitted. "She
was walking in her sleep."

"I don't believe it!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, she was," said Addison. "She was walking in her sleep. She must
have been."

I was far from convinced, but, seeing that Addison was determined to
have it so, I said no more. Taking the book, we returned home. The house
was all quiet.

The next morning at the breakfast table Ellen, Theodora and grandmother
began to speak of the lost bank book again. I think that Addison had
already said something in private to the old Squire, and that they had
come to an agreement as to the best course to pursue.

"Don't fret, grandmother!" Addison cried, laughing. "The book's found!
We found it late last night, after all the rest were in bed."

There was a general exclamation of surprise. I stole a glance at Miss
Emmons. She looked amazed, and I thought that she turned pale; but she
was always pale.

"Yes," Addison continued, "'twas great fun. Wilma," he cried familiarly,
"did you know that you walk in your sleep?"

Miss Emmons uttered some sort of protest.

"Well, but you do!" Addison exclaimed. "Of course you don't remember it.
Somnambulists never do. You walked as if you were walking a chalk line.
'Twas the fuss we made, searching for Jim's book last night, that set
you off, I suppose."

Grandmother and the girls burst in with a hundred questions; but the old
Squire said in a matter-of-fact tone:

"I used to walk in my sleep myself, when anything had excited me the
previous evening. Sometimes, too, when I was a little ill of a cold."

Then the old gentleman went on to relate odd stories of persons who had
walked in their sleep and hidden articles, particularly money, and of
the efforts that had be