you what, Fanny. I'll go in after luncheon, and see if it has
moved from the place I saw it in."

"Did you notice the place well where it stood?" asked Fanny.

"Yes," replied Patty, "I'd know if it moved again. Don't tell Mrs.
Tucker or cook anything about it. You and I will try to checkmate that
pack if there is anything uncanny in it. Now tell cook I am ready for
luncheon if she is."

But when the luncheon came on the table Patty had lost all hunger. She
merely nibbled at trifles till Fanny came to clear away.

"I'm going to that room," she whispered. "If Mrs. Tucker should want me,
or perhaps Sam might, for I told him I was going to see how well he had
cleaned the harness that I found in the loft, then you must come in
quietly and beckon me out. Don't let any one know I am watching that
pack."

"Yes, miss," was Fanny's answer, given so hopelessly that Patty put a
kind hand on her shoulder with the words:

"Cheer up, Fanny. I don't believe it's so bad as you make out. It is my
belief you have imagined that the pack moved."

"It isn't my fancy, it isn't," cried the girl, the tears starting to her
eyes. "If anything dreadful happens, then it is me that has injured the
master--the best master that a poor girl could have." And with her apron
to her eyes Fanny left the room.

She came back a minute later to see Patty examining the priming of her
rifle. "Miss Patty," she whispered aghast, "you ain't never going to
shoot at it!"

"I am going to sit in that room all the afternoon," said Patty calmly,
"and if that pack moves while my eyes are on it I'll fire into that pack
even if by so doing I riddle every garment in it." And without another
word Patty stalked out of the room with her rifle on her shoulder.

At the door of the breakfast-room she set her teeth hard, and opened the
door.

_The pack had moved since she saw it._

It was with a face destitute of all colour that Patty seated herself
upon the table to mount guard over that black object now lying several
yards away from the corner. Her eyes were glued to the bundle; they grew
large and glassy, and a film seemed to come over them as she gazed,
without daring even to wink. How the minutes passed--if they revolved
themselves into half hours--she did not know. No one called her, no one
approached the door, she sat on with one fixed stare at the pedlar's
pack.

Was she dreaming? Was it fancy? No, the pack was moving! Slowly, very
slowly it crept--it could