"Don't I?" asked the voice, ending with a coarse laugh.
"I wouldn't go out there if I were you, little boy; that fellow might do you some harm," said a pleasant voice that seemed to come from a far corner of the room.
Don turned to see who was the speaker, but there was no stranger to be seen, and the voice had certainly not been a familiar one.
"Why," exclaimed the little fellow, "who said that? What's the matter here to-night, that we hear so many folks that we can't see?"
As he spoke, a low whine, that sounded as if made by a young puppy, seemed to come from his pocket. With a startled jump and exclamation, "Oh, how did it get in there?" he clapped his hand upon his pocket. "Why—why, it isn't there! Where is it?" he cried, turning round and round, looking down at his feet, then farther away under chairs and tables. "I can't find it," he said presently, looking much bewildered. "Grandpa, I never saw such things happen in your house before—no, nor anywhere else. What's the matter with me? am I going blind?"
"No, my boy," said the doctor, "we all seem to be as blind as yourself—hearing people talk but not able to see them."
"None so blind as those that won't see," remarked the voice that had spoken last, but this time coming apparently from the doorway. "Here I am, and you are welcome to look at me as closely as you please."
A sudden fierce bark from their very midst seemed to answer her. It was so sudden and sharp that everyone started, and some of the children screamed.
"Nero, be quiet, sir, and walk right out here," said the voice from the hall, and it was answered by a low growl; then all was silent.
"Why, where did he go? and why couldn't we see him?" asked one of the little ones.