en a bell rang in the bowels of the
house. His flesh crept. It was as if--

The clock struck twelve, and shook the silent tower.

Then he collected his powers of memory and of induction, and recognised
in the sound of the bell the sound of the front door bell. Some one must
be at the front door. The singular and highly-disturbing phenomena of
distant clanging, of thrills, and of flesh-creepings were all resolved
into the simple fact that some one was at the front door.

He went back into his little room; instead of opening the front door
like a man, he opened the window of the little room, and stuck out the
tassel of his cap.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"It's I, Mr. Ollerenshaw," said a voice, queenly and nervous.

"Not Mrs. Prockter?" he suggested.

"Yes."

"I reckon ye'd like to come in," he said.

She admitted the desire with a laugh which struck him as excessively
free. He did not know whether to be glad or sorry that Helen had
departed to bed. He did not even know whether to be glad or sorry that
Mrs. Prockter had called. But he vividly remembered what Helen had said
about caps.

Naturally, he had to let her in. He held the candle in his left hand,
as he opened the door with his right, and the tassel of his cap was over
his eye.

"You'll think I'm in the habit of calling on you at night," said Mrs.
Prockter, as she slid through the narrow space which James allotted to
her, and she laughed again. "Where is dear Helen?"

"She's gone to bed, missis," said James, holding high the candle and
gazing at the generous vision in front of him. It wore a bonnet, and a
rich Paisley shawl over its flowered silk.

"But it's only ten o'clock!" Mrs. Prockter protested.

"Yes. But her's gone to bed."

"Why," Mrs. Prockter exclaimed, changing the subject wilfully, "you are
all straight here!" (For the carpets had been unrolled and laid.)

And she sat down on a massive Early Victorian mahogany chair about
fifteen feet from the dying fire, and began to fan herself with her
hands. She was one of your women who are never cold.

James, having nothing to say, said nothing, following his custom.

"I'm not ill-pleased," said Mrs. Prockter, "that Helen is out of the
way. The fact is--it was you that I wanted to have a word with. You'll
guess what about?"

"Mr. Emanuel?" James hazarded.

"Precisely. I had to put him to bed. He is certainly in for a very
serious cold, and I trust--I fervently trust--it may not b