"We've all got ears," remonstrated Chinky.
"It's Stubbins," insisted Mrs. Mulvaney, "and I'll give it to him for being so smart and not answering Hannah."
Upstairs went Mrs. Mulvaney, but she came down faster than she went up. "It beats all," she declared, "there ain't nobody in the house but us—and do you hear that noise again? I ain't afraid, but when I opened the attic door I heard some one cough, and then he laughed, though it sounded more like a squeal."
"Listen, now," faltered Sally, "hear that trot—trot—trot, again?"
Being a woman of action, Mrs. Mulvaney lighted a lamp. "I'm going in that attic and look around," said she. "I don't care if you all come along."
"I ain't afraid," bragged Chinky.
"Hold your tongue," said his mother, leading the way toward the attic.
Neither Cornelia Mary nor Sally could have spoken had they tried. Their jaws wouldn't work. As for their knees, one minute they were stiff as the joints of a Dutch doll, the next the poor girls could scarcely stand. Johnnie was whimpering. Hannah and the twins clung together. Only Mike and Chinky pretended not to be afraid, as Mrs. Mulvaney climbed steadily upward. By the attic door she paused, surrounded by her followers.
"Trot—trot—trot—patter—patter—patter," a shuffling sound, then all was still.
"Open the door, Chinky, and step in," whispered Mrs. Mulvaney.