“I’m not frightened,” said Will, “but I don’t like subjects of this kind at bedtime, so I wish you wouldn’t say any more about it.”

“It seems, however, that the bell was rung by invisible agency,” said John.

“Come, come, we’ll stop talking and go to bed,” Edwin said.

“But, Edwin,” said Will with big eyes, out of which he could not keep a frightened look, “do you think a spirit did it?”

“No:  it is a trick, and you’ll find out who did it before long.”

“Well,” said John, “it was a stupid trick, but cleverly done—­very cleverly done, or whoever did it would not have escaped me.”

“I should not like to sleep alone to-night,” Will said to his brother in confidence when they were in their own room, “and I don’t believe you would either, although you don’t say so.  I wonder if Edwin likes it, away from every one too, in that room with the hole in its roof?  I wonder papa does not get that hole mended?”

“He has often spoken about it,” said John, “but if I slept in that room I should rather like the hole.  It’s uncommon:  every room hasn’t a hole in its roof.  If you couldn’t sleep, for instance, you’d have only to stare at the hole, and you would doze off before you knew.”

“Staring at it would only keep me from sleeping,” Will said:  “I should always think something was looking at me through it.”

“What could look at you but light—­moonlight or daylight from the room above?  In the dark you would the hole.”

“Let’s sleep,” said Will; and, forgetting ghosts and bells and all influences, the two boys were soon asleep.

It is to be hoped the girls were asleep also; indeed, there is little doubt the younger ones were.  But Bessie, with the cares of a castle on her head, the mysteries of the evening to perplex her, and an unfortunate love-affair going more and more awry, how was it with her?

And Edwin, in his remote room with its hole in the roof, how did he fare?  He had gone up a stone staircase, through a long passage and down a short flight of steps, into a room large, somewhat low in ceiling, and, with the exception of the hole, most comfortably appointed.  It felt warm, rather too warm, and he did not replenish the fire, preferring to let it go out.  The room and the way to it were both very familiar to him, and, like John, he enjoyed the hole:  staring at it made you sleep, and when not sleeping your fancy could play round it to any extent.  On this night the light of the moon, shining in at the shutterless windows of the empty room above, fell across its floor, and gleamed down through the opening.