Connie.  ’Tes awful difficult, this one.

Ivy. [Illustrating] No; yu just jump, an’ clap yore ’ands.  Lovely, lovely!

Clyst. Like ringin’ bells!  Come ahn!

[Tibby begins her drowsy beating, Ivy hums the tune; they dance, and their shadows dance again upon the walls.  When she has beaten but a few moments on the tambourine, Tibby is overcome once more by sleep and falls back again into her nest of hay, with her little shoed feet just visible over the edge of the bench.  Ivy catches up the tambourine, and to her beating and humming the dancers dance on.]

     [Suddenly Gladys stops like a wild animal surprised, and cranes
     her neck towards the aide door.]

Connie. [Whispering] What is it?

Gladys. [Whispering] I hear—­some one comin’ across the yard.

[She leads a noiseless scamper towards the shoes.  Bobbie Jarland shins up the ladder and seizes the lantern.  Ivy drops the tambourine.  They all fly to the big doors, and vanish into the moonlight, pulling the door nearly to again after them.]

[There is the sound of scrabbling at the hitch of the side door, and Strangway comes into the nearly dark barn.  Out in the night the owl is still hooting.  He closes the door, and that sound is lost.  Like a man walking in his sleep, he goes up to the ladder, takes the rope in his hand, and makes a noose.  He can be heard breathing, and in the darkness the motions of his hands are dimly seen, freeing his throat and putting the noose round his neck.  He stands swaying to and fro at the foot of the ladder; then, with a sigh, sets his foot on it to mount.  One of the big doors creaks and opens in the wind, letting in a broad path of moonlight.]

     [Strangway stops; freeing his neck from the noose, he walks
     quickly up the track of moonlight, whitened from head to foot,
     to close the doors.]

     [The sound of his boots on the bare floor has awakened Tibby
     Jarland.  Struggling out of her hay nest she stands staring at
     his whitened figure, and bursts suddenly into a wail.]

Tibby.  O-oh!  Mercy!  Where are yu?  I’m frightened!  I’m frightened!  O-oooo!

Strangway. [Turning—­startled] Who’s that?  Who is it?

Tibby.  O-oh!  A ghosty!  Oo-ooo!

Strangway. [Going to her quickly] It’s me, Tibby—­Tib only me!

Tibby.  I seed a ghosty.

Strangway. [Taking her up] No, no, my bird, you didn’t!  It was me.

Tibby. [Burying her face against him] I’m frighted.  It was a big one. [She gives tongue again] O-o-oh!

Strangway.  There, there!  It’s nothing but me.  Look!

Tibby.  No. [She peeps out all the same.]