He came closer to his wife and whispered, tremulously:
"Hush, honey; Maria did say as how if de dead could come back she would, and—and—I heard somefin' sartain—oh, Lord!"
He gave a jump, and so did Poky. Both had heard something this time—the low wails of a new-born infant proceeding from the next room.
They held their breath for a minute, then Poky, who was rather strong-minded, said, contemptuously:
"Cats!"
"Do—do—you think so, Poky?" her better half inquired, dropping his trembling frame into a chair, and more than half convinced that Maria was haunting him already.
"Sartain!" said Poky, with a sniff. "Lors, Sam, what a coward you be! It's only some cats as is got in thrue a open window."
She seized a poker and the candle and disappeared into the "company room," leaving Sam cowering in the dark, and trembling lest the shade of his departed Maria should pounce upon him at any minute and shake him for having presumed to give her a successor.
Then a succession of low wails echoed on the air again, and Sam shook himself together with returning courage.
"'Twas cats after all! I thought so!" he ejaculated, with a feeble chuckle. "And, Lordy, but Poky's a-makin' 'em git!"