“What a horrible dream,” cried Asher in agony.
“’Tisn’t a dream,” said the little figure. “You pinch your leg and try now, or stop, I will,” and in a moment the tiny fellow leaped down and nipped the clerk’s leg so vigorously that he shrieked with pain.
“Don’t feel like a dream, does it?” said the spirit.
“Don’t think it does,” said Asher, “at least I never dreamed so loud before that I know of.”
“No, I shouldn’t think you did, but you won’t dream any more,” said the little spirit.
“You don’t mean that?” said Asher in a pitiful voice.
“I shouldn’t have said it if I had not,” said the spirit. “Do you suppose we speak falsely?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” groaned Asher. “But, I say, let me go this time.”
“Thirty-five minutes,” said the little spirit; “only thirty-five minutes more, and then my work’s done, and yours too.”
Asher groaned again, and then gave a furious struggle, which only tightened the ropes and made one of the bells above give a sonorous clang, which sounded like a knell to the groaning clerk.