“My daughters,” said their mother, with authority in her eyes, “go to your chamber till you can behave more like reasonable creatures. Is it a bug—a bug that can frighten you out of what little wits you ever had? Leave the room. I am astonished, I am pained by such childish conduct.”
“Now tell me,” said she, addressing me, as soon as they had withdrawn, “now tell me truly, did a bug really come out of this crack in the table?”
“Wife, it is even so.”
“Did you see it come out?”
“I did.”
She looked earnestly at the crack, leaning over it.
“Are you sure?” said she, looking up, but still bent over.
“Sure, sure.”
She was silent. I began to think that the mystery of the thing began to tell even upon her. Yes, thought I, I shall presently see my wife shaking and shuddering, and, who knows, calling in some old dominie to exorcise the table, and drive out the spirits.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said she suddenly, and not without excitement.