id
Jill.

"I wonder where the comet went to?" said I.

"'Whether we shall be plunged into,'" quoted Jill, in a horrible
whisper, from that dreadful newspaper, "'shall be plunged into a wild
vortex of angry space--or suffocated with noxious gases--or scorched to
a helpless crisp--or blasted--'"

"When do you think they will come after us?" I interrupted Jill.

That very minute somebody came. We heard a step and then another, then a
heavy bang. Jill howled out a little. I didn't, for I was thinking how
the cellar door banged like that. Then came a voice, an awful hoarse and
trembling voice as ever you heard.

"George Zacharias!"

Then I knew it must be the judgment day and that the angel had me in
court to answer him, for you couldn't expect an angel to call you Jack
after you was dead.

"George Zacharias!" said the awful voice again. I didn't know what else
to do, I was so frightened, so I just hollered out "Here!" as I do at
school.

"Timothy!" came the voice once more.

Now Jill had a bright idea. Up he shouted, "Absent!" at the top of his
lungs.

"George! Jack! Jill! where are you? Are you killed? Oh, wait a minute
and I'll bring a light."

This did not sound so much like judgment day as it did like Aunt John. I
began to feel better. So did Jill. I sat up. So did he. It wasn't a
minute till the light came into sight, and something that looked like a
cellar door, the cellar steps, and Aunt John's spotted wrapper, and Miss
Togy in a night-gown, away behind as white as a ghost. Aunt John held
the light above her head and looked down. I don't believe I shall ever
see an angel that will make me feel any better to look at than Aunt John
did that night.

"O you blessed boys!" said Aunt John--she was laughing and crying
together. "To think that you should have fallen through the old chimney
to the cellar floor and be sitting there alive in such a funny heap as
that!"

And that was just what we had done. The old flooring (not very secure)
had given away in the storm; and we'd gone down through two stories,
where the chimney ought to have been, jam! into the cellar on the coal
heap, and all as good as ever excepting the bedstead.

FOOTNOTE:

[66] From "Trot's Wedding Journey."

DE APPILE TREE[67]

JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS

Dat's a mighty quare tale, 'bout de appile tree
In de pah'dise gyardin, whar Adam runned free,
Whar de butter-flies drunk honey wid ole mammy bee.
T