Mrs. Fox was not a nervous woman ordinarily, but she was undeniably frightened at the unexpected sound.
“Heavens and earth, what’s that?” she ejaculated, and dropping our hero’s clothes, retreated in disorder, almost stumbling downstairs in her precipitate flight. Dashing into the chamber where Mr. Fox was waiting for her, she sank into a chair, gasping for breath.
“Good gracious, Maria, what’s the matter?” exclaimed her husband, gazing at her in astonishment.
“I—don’t—know,” she gasped.
“You look as if you had seen a ghost.”
“I haven’t seen anything,” said his wife, recovering her breath, “but I’ve heard something terrible. It’s my belief the attic is haunted. I went upstairs and put back the wallet, and was looking to see if I could find another, when all at once the candle went out, and a terrible noise shook the chamber.”
“What was it like, Mrs. F.?”
“I can’t tell you. I never heard anything like it before. All I know is, I wouldn’t go up there again tonight for anything.”
“Did the boy sleep through it all?”
“How can I tell? The candle was out.”