"You come down, Jessie, I want to ask you something.

I'll throw you Robbie's stockings." "Come back here, the rude boy that you are," said Jessie, crossly, "and bring me that candle." There was no reply.

Hughie was standing, pale and shaking, in the dining-room, listening intently for Jessie's step.

Would she go into his room, or would she come down?
Every moment increased the agony of his fear.
At length, with a happy inspiration, he went to the cupboard, opened the door noisily, and began rattling the dishes.
"Mercy me!" he heard Jessie exclaim at the top of the stair.

"That boy will be my death.