"Why didn't ye tell to I avore?" he asked reproachfully.
Grandfather appeared to regard the question as impertinent, as he gave no answer.
"Yew was making creepy noises last night. I heard ye," Peter went on, waxing bold. "Seemed as if yew was trying to crawl out o' your own belly."
"I was trying to talk," the clock explained.
Peter had some more shivers. It seemed natural enough to hear old Grandfather talking, and he tried to persuade himself it was not the voice which frightened him, but the queer blue light that seemed to be filling the hut. He remembered that pixies always go about with blue lanterns, and he began to believe that the surrounding moor was crowded with the little people out for a frolic at his expense. Then he thought he would go for Mary, but remembered she had gone to Lewside Cottage with dairy produce. That reminded him of the diary. What a wonderful work he would make of it now!
"Gran'vaither," he called.
"Here I be," said the voice.
"I knows yew be there," said Peter, somewhat sharply. The old gentleman was not so intellectual as he could have wished. "I wants to know how yew be telling to I?"
"Same as yew," said Grandfather.
"Yew ain't got no tongue."