“My room, mind ye, was upstairs, next to the old lady’s, and Mrs. Wyvern’s bed was near hers in her room, and I was to be ready at call, if need should be.

“The old lady was in one of her tantrums that night and part of the day before.  She used to take fits o’ the sulks.  Sometimes she would not let them dress her, and at other times she would not let them take her clothes off.  She was a great beauty, they said, in her day.  But there was no one about Applewale that remembered her in her prime.  And she was dreadful fond o’ dress, and had thick silks, and stiff satins, and velvets, and laces, and all sorts, enough to set up seven shops at the least.  All her dresses was old-fashioned and queer, but worth a fortune.

“Well, I went to my bed.  I lay for a while awake; for a’ things was new to me; and I think the tea was in my nerves, too, for I wasn’t used to it, except now and then on a holiday, or the like.  And I heard Mrs. Wyvern talkin’, and I listened with my hand to my ear; but I could not hear Mrs. Crowl, and I don’t think she said a word.

“There was great care took of her.  The people at Applewale knew that when she died they would every one get the sack; and their situations was well paid and easy.

“The doctor came twice a week to see the old lady, and you may be sure they all did as he bid them.  One thing was the same every time; they were never to cross or frump her, any way, but to humour and please her in everything.

“So she lay in her clothes all that night, and next day, not a word she said, and I was at my needlework all that day, in my own room, except when I went down to my dinner.

“I would a liked to see the ald lady, and even to hear her speak.  But she might as well a’ bin in Lunnon a’ the time for me.

“When I had my dinner my aunt sent me out for a walk for an hour.  I was glad when I came back, the trees was so big, and the place so dark and lonesome, and ‘twas a cloudy day, and I cried a deal, thinkin’ of home, while I was walkin’ alone there.  That evening, the candles bein’ alight, I was sittin’ in my room, and the door was open into Madam Crowl’s chamber, where my aunt was.  It was, then, for the first time I heard what I suppose was the ald lady talking.

“It was a queer noise like, I couldn’t well say which, a bird, or a beast, only it had a bleatin’ sound in it, and was very small.

“I pricked my ears to hear all I could.  But I could not make out one word she said.  And my aunt answered: 

“‘The evil one can’t hurt no one, ma’am, bout the Lord permits.’

“Then the same queer voice from the bed says something more that I couldn’t make head nor tail on.

“And my aunt med answer again:  ’Let them pull faces, ma’am, and say what they will; if the Lord be for us, who can be against us?’

“I kept listenin’ with my ear turned to the door, holdin’ my breath, but not another word or sound came in from the room.  In about twenty minutes, as I was sittin’ by the table, lookin’ at the pictures in the old Aesop’s Fables, I was aware o’ something moving at the door, and lookin’ up I sid my aunt’s face lookin’ in at the door, and her hand raised.