Then the dim figure in long clothes came slowly out and returned up the road toward the old Squire's.
"Who was it ?" Addison said to me.
"Miss Emmons," I replied.
"Yes," Addison assented reluctantly.
We went into the schoolhouse, struck matches, and at last lighted a pine splint.

The drawer to the teacher's desk was locked, but it was a worn old lock, and by inserting the little blade of his knife Addison at last pushed the bolt back.
Inside were the teacher's books and records.

A Fifth Reader that we took up opened readily to Jim Doane's bank book.
"She brought that here to hide it!" I exclaimed.
Addison did not reply for a moment.

"Perhaps she did," he admitted.

"She was walking in her sleep." "I don't believe it!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, she was," said Addison.