Out into the entry stole Romeo Augustus. The harvest-moon threw a broad band of light on the stairs. Down crept the small bare feet along the lower hall into the sitting-room. How weird everything looked in the dimness! Gaunt and tall stood the clock in the corner.
The outside moon tossed a handful of beams into the clock-moon's face. The clock-moon was so very jolly! Did he know that just beneath were things?—two dangling in air, headless, armless? one "writhing in agony anon"?
Romeo Augustus almost turned and fled. His breath came in gasps. How could he go forward? But he creeps on. His hand is on the clock's brass-bound door. Will he open it now?
"Tick-tock—tick-tock.
Past ten—o'clock.
Turn key—and see
Things three—in me.
Past ten—o'clock.
Tick-tock—tick-tock."
Snap! went the brass key. Into the dark were thrust two little cold hands.
Then, suddenly, "Ha! ha! ha!" a shrill laugh went dancing up stairs. "Ha! ha! ha! Hurrah! Ha! ha! ha!"
What could the matter be?
"Ha! ha! ha! Oh, ha! ha! ha!"
Father and mother, Solomon and Isaac, Elias and John, with Philemon in the rear—into the room they all rushed, winking and blinking, candles in their hands.
There, in his red night-gown, hopping up and down in front of the clock, was Master Romeo Augustus.