"Why don't you answer him, Dick?" added uncle Obed, who, notwithstanding the serious character of the matter, could not restrain his laughter at the ludicrous side of the question.
"I don't care about your making fun of me," replied the poor somnambulist.
"My dear boy, this is a scientific, a physiological investigation. You pulled out the nails which your father had driven into the window; you skulked away from the house; you went down to your boat, got under way in a squally, dark night, and met another sleep-walker on the other side of the river;—I presume he was asleep, for you do not say to the contrary;—you sailed down the river to a certain inlet; you landed, and went up to Mr. Batterman's barn; you removed the horses and oxen from it; you poured turpentine upon a bunch of loose hay prepared for the purpose; you lighted your matches and set fire to it; and all the while you were fast asleep. And you returned home and went to bed again without waking. Really, my dear boy, this is the most astonishing case of somnambulism on record. I have vainly looked over my books for a parallel instance. Can you tell me what your dreams were last night? Did you dream any thing of this kind?"
Richard was filled with dismay at this recital of the events of the night. The mysterious boat he had twice seen was the only explanation of the minuteness of Mr. Presby's details that suggested itself to his mind.
"You talked quite rationally in your sleep, which is a new development in somnambulism. But, after all," continued the devotee of science, "the phenomena of last night were not near so remarkable as those of the former occasion. By the way, my dear boy, do sleep-walkers have any particular fondness for watermelons?"
Uncle Obed laughed outright at this sally, and even Mr. Grant, wounded as his paternal heart was by the discovery, could not help smiling, though he felt more like weeping than laughing.
"You are silent, my dear boy," resumed Mr. Presby. "This is an important physiological inquiry, and you would enlarge the sphere of human knowledge of this interesting subject, if you would answer me."
Richard was inclined to get into a passion, but the consciousness of his guilt restrained him, and he listened in silence to the satirical remarks of the old gentleman.
"But the most astounding fact of all is, that you could take such an unmerciful flogging as Mr. Batterman gave you without waking up," continued the inquisitor. "Perhaps you did wake under this cruel infliction, but went to sleep again when the castigation was over. Can you inform me on this point?"
"You have made fun enough of me," replied Richard; but his words were very tame, considering the amount of provocation he had endured.