his morning, and Mary is
preparing it," Grandmother explained.

"Aunt Esmerelda is afraid of spooks," said Grandfather, laughing.
"Indeed, I don't know how to explain it myself. What do you suppose we
found this morning? That Malay kris of which I told you, that hangs in
the parlor, was thrust through the grater and buried so deep in the
kitchen floor that Fergus and I could hardly get it out."

Mary, bringing breakfast, announced,

"Jeremiah's shut up somewhere again. We can hear his cries but can't
tell where he is."

"Not in the sofa again, I hope," said Grandfather.

"Not there," said Mary. "He sounds as if he were in the chimney."

"Impossible," said Grandfather. "But then, impossible things happen
every day in this house. We'll have breakfast first, at any rate."

After breakfast Grandfather, Fergus, and Uncle Jonah found the place in
the chimney where Jeremiah was caught and, knocking in a hole, let him
out.

Very dirty he was, all covered with soot, and very much ashamed. He
hurried away with lowered head and tail and didn't reappear until he
had cleaned his coat.

Even then he would not look at Hortense, try as she would to catch his
eye.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII

"_... there should be Little People up the mountain yonder...._"

"If you will come to tea at four o'clock, Fergus will tell you a story
of the Little People," said Mary to Hortense, adding as Hortense
hesitated a moment, "Bring Andy with you."

Hortense accepted gladly and ran to inform Andy of the invitation and
that nut cake with chocolate icing had been especially made for the
occasion.

At four o'clock Andy and Hortense, in their best bib and tucker and
with clean smiling faces, knocked at the door of the little cottage
beyond the orchard where lived Fergus and Mary.

The tea was all that could be asked for in variety and quantity, and it
was quite evident when Hortense and Andy had finished with it that if
they ate even a mouthful of supper later, they would be taking a grave
risk of bad dreams and castor oil.

Fergus lighted his pipe, drew his chair a little closer to the hearth,
and related the story of _Shamus the Harper_.

* * * * *

You must know that a very long time ago, when many kings ruled
Ireland, there lived a boy named Shamus. He was not, however, the
son or grandson of a king, which was in itself a distinction. In
fact, his father had a b