particularly applies to those
who know they _deserve_ punishment, as in Mrs. Winslow's case.

The next evening they were all sitting discussing general topics and a
pint of peach brandy, and had become exceedingly sociable, particularly
over the railroad circulars, which Fox and Bristol had by this time
induced her to regard in the light of a huge joke, or error, when the
party were suddenly startled by some object which caused a peculiar
ringing, yet deadened sound, as it struck the partly-opened door and
then bounded upon the carpet where it glisteningly rolled out of sight
under the sofa where the thoroughly-scared Mrs. Winslow sat.

"My God! what's that?" she screamed, rushing to the door and peering
down the staircase, as rapidly retreating footsteps were distinctly
heard; but not being able to discover anybody, scrambled back into the
room, shutting and bolting the door behind her.

The woman was deathly pale, the color brought to her face by the brandy
having been driven from it as if by some terrible blow; but it came back
with her into the room, where Bristol and Fox _appeared_ nearly as
frightened as she.

She looked at them a moment in a dazed, stupefied way, and then
demanded: "What does this mean?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" returned Bristol, hunting for his
quizzers, which he had lost in his jump from his chair. "This is all
very fine, but it's pretty plain somebody here's sent for!"

"And _I_ don't want to go!" chimed in Fox, climbing down from a safe
position upon the _escritoire_.

The three looked at each other in an extremely suspicious way, and the
woman again demanded, this time threateningly, what it all meant.

[Illustration: _The three looked at each other in an extremely
suspicious way.--_]

"Something with a glitter, and it rolled under there," was all Bristol
could tell her about it.

"Let's get it, whatever it is!" said Fox, with an apparent burst of
bravery and spirit.

So Bristol at one end and Fox at the other end of the sofa, rolled it
out with a great show of caution, while Mrs. Winslow, though
preserving a good position for observation, kept nimbly out of the way.

"What can it be?" she persisted excitedly.

"A vial sealed with red wax, with a string attached, and containing some
clear liquid," said Fox, stooping to pick it up.

"Don't--don't, Fox!" shouted Bristol, pushing him back impetuously; "the
devilish thing may burst and kill us all--nitro-glycerine, you k