CORN "Master Jeff!" The kitchen door opened with a nervous creak and a wrinkled brown face, encircled by the frills of a muslin nightcap, peered cautiously in.

"Are you asleep, my dear ?" asked Granny Grimshaw with tender solicitude.
He was sitting at the table with his elbows upon it and his head in his hands.

She saw the smoke curling upwards from his pipe, and rightly deduced from this that he was not asleep.
She came forward, candle in hand.

"Master Jeff, you'll pardon me, I'm sure.

But it's getting so late--nigh upon twelve o'clock.