"It's your narvousness." Yet Mr. Ducklow listened for further indications of burglary. "Why can't ye be quiet and go to sleep, as you said to me?"
"I'm sure I heard something! Anybody might have looked through the blinds and seen us putting—you know—under the carpet."
"Nonsense! 't a'n't at all likely."
But Mr. Ducklow was more alarmed than he was willing to confess. He succeeded in quieting his wife's apprehensions; but at the same time the burden of solicitude and wakefulness seemed to pass from her mind only to rest upon his own. She soon after fell asleep; but he lay awake, hearing burglars in all parts of the house for an hour longer.
"What now?" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow, starting up in bed.
"I thought I might as well git up and satisfy myself," replied her husband, in a low, agitated voice.
He had risen, and was groping his way to the kitchen.
"Is there anything?" she inquired, after listening long with chilling blood, expecting at each moment to hear him knocked down or throttled.
He made no reply, but presently came gliding softly back again.
"I can't find nothin'. But I never in all my life heard the floors creak so! I could have sworn there was somebody walkin' over 'em!"