"Hark! wasn't that a voice?"
"No; it's one of the icicles falling from the eaves."
"It seemed to come from the stairs, I thought; suppose we look."
"Oh, be still. It's the ice, I tell you. Just hand me a drink of that ginger cider. This talk about hanging makes the cold chills run over me."
There was a moment's silence, then a deep, satisfied breath, and the jingle of a pewter mug as it was set down between the andirons.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
OUT IN THE DEPTHS OF THE NIGHT.
How she got to her room, Katharine never knew; but little Paul sat with his back to the door which led from her chamber to his, and heard faint shudderings with that icy sound which had disturbed the men, for a long time after she entered the room. It troubled him so much at last that he went into the outer garret and sought Jube, who stood like a bronze statue by a window in the gable.
"Jube, I'm sure that she is up now, you can hear her tremble through the door."
Jube put a finger to his lip, and lifting Paul in his arms, pointed through the window. The end of a ladder rested against the sill, and Tom sat perched on one of the upper rounds, motioning to Jube that he must stoop down and help him in.