I was having a good enough time playing by myself until I found that the doors were fastened and that there was a grisly deep silence brooding over the place.

I knew, then, that the family were gone, and that they had forgotten me.

I was well frightened, and I made all the noise I could, but no one was near and it did no good.

I spent the afternoon in captivity and was not rescued until the gloaming had fallen and the place was alive with ghosts.
My brother Henry was six months old at that time.

I used to remember his walking into a fire outdoors when he was a week old.