Dr. Silsby glared.
"Janitor missed me. Didn't notice the time. Locked out. Slept four hours all night, and now I'm hoarse from bawling ten. What's the matter with Sleepy Hollow? Are they all in bed?"
"Why, this is Sunday morning," explained Emily, repressing her merriment.
"They ought to have ladders up there, so a man could climb down," grumbled Dr. Silsby.
Walter thought this a somewhat unreasonable demand.
"You might have descended by the mail chute," said Emily, laughing outright, "and then the postman would have collected you just before breakfast."
The learned doctor made no reply, so they left him shuffling away in search of a restaurant.
"I do hope Judge Dunder will allow the will," she said; and it took the whole ride to explain the why of this hope to her eager auditor.
At Woodlawn they were directed to Hemlock grove and wandered among its dark trees, peace-breathing in themselves, but haunted for them by the vague pervasive shadow of a tragedy. The hut was too far for Walter's strength, so they turned off at an angle, following a footpath which they knew would lead to some road. Once or twice they heard a murmur of voices, seeming to come from the left. It was very deep and indistinct and not unlike the mooing of a cow. But her bell would have tinkled if it had really been a stray tenant of the milk-shed.
"What is it, Walter?" asked Emily. It had sounded again, this time more humanly and close to their ears. They had been moving toward it unawares.