"What noise?"
"That scratchin' kind-uh noise inside of the chimbley."
"No, I don't hear nothin'"; and the old man made haste to resume his sleep where he had left off.
"I do believe this house is ha'nted," sighed Mrs. Britton to herself.
The next morning when she woke up she called out, according to her wont, to the hired man in the loft: "Zeke! Zeke! O Zeke!"
She got no reply. Vexed of all things that a hired man should lose a minute of time, she called again in vain. A minute later she was about to get up and go to the ladder so as to be better heard, when there came to her the sound of Zeke chopping wood at the back door.
"Well, ef the world ain't a-comin' to 'n end, when Zeke Tucker gits up an' goes to choppin' of 'is own accord!"
When Zeke came in to breakfast, she said: "You're out bright and airly this mornin."
"Yes; I could n' sleep."
"D' you hear that scratchin' in the chimbley?"