D. And now I suppose you were frighted in earnest?
C. Ay, so I was; but it was worse yet, for they had not stood long together, but the great elbow-chair, which the old gentleman sat in at the little table just by me, began to stir of itself; at which the old gentleman, knowing I should be afraid, came to me, and said, ‘Sit still, don’t you stir, all will be well; you shall have no harm;’ at which he gave his chair a kick with his foot, and saith, ‘Go!’ with some other words, and other language; and away went the obedient chair, sliding, two of its legs on the ground, and the other two off, as if somebody had dragged it by that part.
D. And so, no doubt, they did, though you could not see it.
C. And as soon as the chair was dragged or moved to the end of the room, where the three, I know not what to call ’em, were, two other chairs did the like from the other side of the room, and so they all sat down, and talked together a good while; at last the door at that end of the room opened too, and they all were gone in a moment, without rising out of their chairs; for I am sure they did not rise to go out, as other folks do.
D. What did you think of yourself when you saw the chair stir so near you?
C. Think! nay, I did not think; I was dead, to be sure I was dead, with the fright, and expected I should be carried away, chair and all, the next moment. Then it was, I say, that my hair would have lifted off my hat, if it had been on, I am sure it would.
D. Well, but when they were all gone, you came to yourself again, I suppose?
C. To tell you the truth, master, I am not come to myself yet.
D. But go on, let me know how it ended.
C. Why, after a little while, my old man came in again, called his man to set the chairs to rights, and then sat him down at the table, spoke cheerfully to me, and asked me if I would drink, which I refused, though I was a-dry indeed. I believe the fright had made me dry; but as I never had been used to drink with the devil, I didn’t know what to think of it, so I let it alone.