But when, forgetful of others, I talked aloud to myriads of little folks, unseen 'tis true, but still real to me, they shook their gray heads ominously, and whispering to my mother said, "Mark our words, that girl will one day be crazy.

In ten years more she will be an inmate of the madhouse!" And then I wondered what a madhouse was, and if the people there all acted as our school-teacher did when Bill and the big girl said he was mad! The ten years have passed, and I'm not in a madhouse yet, unless, indeed, it is one of my own getting up! One thing more about Rice Corner, and then, honor bright, I'll finish the preface and go on with the story.

I must tell you about the old schoolhouse, and the road which led to it.

This last wound around a long hill, and was skirted on either side with tall trees, flowering dogwood, blackberry bushes, and frost grapevines.

Half-way down the hill, and under one of the tallest walnut trees, was a little hollow, where dwelt the goblin with which nurses, housemaids, hired men, and older sisters were wont to frighten refractory children into quietness.