I often wondered just what had become of my father and mother and I remember that the day after I went to my aunt's home a great idea came to me.

It came out of the old dinner-horn hanging in the shed.

I knew the power of its summons and I slyly captured the horn and marched around the house blowing it and hoping that it would bring my father up from the fields.
I blew and blew and listened for that familiar halloo of his.

When I paused for a drink of water at the well my aunt came and seized the horn and said it was no wonder they were dead.

She knew nothing of the sublime bit of necromancy she had interrupted--poor soul! I knew that she had spoken of my parents for I supposed that they were the only people in the world who were dead, but I did not know what it meant to be dead.