The squall was heard of course. Moggy heard it, but she heeded not; for
Betty was known to scream at mice, and even moths. And as her door was
heard to slam, as was usual in panics of the sort, and as she returned
no answer, Moggy was quite sure there was nothing in it.
But Moggy's turn was to come. When spirits 'walk,' I've heard they make
the most of their time, and sometimes pay a little round of visits on
the same evening.
This is certain; Moggy was by no means so great a fool as Betty in
respect of hobgoblins, witches, banshees, pookas, and the world of
spirits in general. She eat heartily, and slept soundly, and as yet had
never seen the devil. Therefore such terrors as she that night
experienced were new to her, and I can't reasonably doubt the truth of
her narrative. Awaking suddenly in the night, she saw a light in the
room, and heard a quiet rustling going on in the corner, where the old
white-painted press showed its front from the wall. So Moggy popped her
head through her thin curtains at the side, and--blessed hour!--there
she saw the shape of a man looking into the press, the doors being wide
open, and the appearance of a key in the lock.
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