“I shouldn’t say it was a very pleasant place to live in, if there are such things as ghosts,” said Caddy, laughing; “I for one wouldn’t like to live there—­but here we are at Mr. Thomas’s—­how short the way has seemed!”

Caroline gave a fierce rap at the door, which was opened by old Aunt Rachel, the fat cook, who had lived with the Thomases for a fabulous length of time.  She was an old woman when Mrs. Ellis came as a girl into the family, and had given her many a cuff in days long past; in fact, notwithstanding Mrs. Ellis had been married many years, and had children almost as old as she herself was when she left Mr. Thomas, Aunt Rachel could never be induced to regard her otherwise than as a girl.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said she gruffly, as she opened the door; “don’t you think better break de door down at once-rapping as if you was guine to tear off de knocker—­is dat de way, gal, you comes to quality’s houses?  You lived here long nuff to larn better dan dat—­and dis is twice I’ve been to de door in de last half-hour—­if any one else comes dere they may stay outside.  Shut de door after you, and come into de kitchen, and don’t keep me standin’ here all night,” added she, puffing and blowing as she waddled back into her sanctum.

Waiting until the irate old cook had recovered her breath, Mrs. Ellis modestly inquired if Mrs. Thomas was at home.  “Go up and see,” was the surly response.  “You’ve been up stars often enuff to know de way—­go long wid you, gal, and don’t be botherin’ me, ‘case I don’t feel like bein’ bothered—­now, mind I tell yer.—­Here, you Cad, set down on dis stool, and let that cat alone; I don’t let any one play with my cat,” continued she, “and you’ll jest let him alone, if you please, or I’ll make you go sit in de entry till your mother’s ready to go.  I don’t see what she has you brats tugging after her for whenever she comes here—­she might jest as well leave yer at home to darn your stockings—­I ’spect dey want it.”

Poor Caddy was boiling over with wrath; but deeming prudence the better part of valour, she did not venture upon any wordy contest with Aunt Rachel, but sat down upon the stool by the fire-place, in which a bright fire was blazing.  Up the chimney an old smoke-jack was clicking, whirling, and making the most dismal noise imaginable.  This old smoke-jack was Aunt Rachel’s especial protege, and she obstinately and successfully defended it against all comers.  She turned up her nose at all modern inventions designed for the same use as entirely beneath her notice.  She had been accustomed to hearing its rattle for the last forty years, and would as soon have thought of committing suicide as consenting to its removal.

She and her cat were admirably matched; he was as snappish and cross as she, and resented with distended claws and elevated back all attempts on the part of strangers to cultivate amicable relations with him.  In fact, Tom’s pugnacious disposition was clearly evidenced by his appearance; one side of his face having a very battered aspect, and the fur being torn off his back in several places.