“Give me the box!” She snatched it from me. “Have you been misbehaving yourself? or are you mad? I’ll soon see what is the cause of all this nonsense, and then I’ll be sorry for whoever is at the bottom of it.”
The first match she tried would not light. The second burst into vivid flame. She stooped down.
“What is this thing upon your bed? It’s some painted toy. You impudent girl!”
Picking it up, she threw it on to the floor into the corner of the room. Her match went out. There was a sound like a little cry of pain.
“Whatever’s that?” asked Lucy.
“It’s nothing,” replied Miss Ashton. “It was only the thing striking against the floor.”
“I believe it’s alive,” I said. “It shrieked.”
“I believe you have been drinking.”
“Miss Ashton!”
“I have heard of people who have been drinking seeing things—that appears to be your condition now. Are you going to get into bed? You will have something to shriek for when the morning comes.”