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Page 32
"I think there is _something_ in the hall," whispered Grace; "I must go
tell papa."
Mr. Clifford immediately took a lamp, and went to investigate the
mystery. Dotty insisted upon going too, though she hardly knew why,
except that the prospect of some unknown horror fascinated her. She
clung to the skirt of her uncle's coat, though he would have preferred
not to be hindered. No one else, not even Horace, cared to follow.
As they entered the parlor there was the same sound from the hall, even
more unearthly than ever. Dotty had entire faith in her uncle, and was
not at all alarmed till they passed through the parlor doorway, and she
saw the finger-prints of blood on the panels. Then she did tremble, and
she had half a mind to draw back; but curiosity was stronger than fear.
What _could_ it be that walked into people's houses _Out West_, and
groaned so in their front halls? She must see the whole thing for
herself, and be prepared to describe it to Prudy.
She soon knew what it meant. There was a poor intoxicated man lying on
the mat. Seeing the door open, he had staggered in while the family were
at tea. In some way he had hurt his hand, and stained the door with
blood. So there was nothing at all mysterious or supernatural in the
affair, when it was once explained.
The poor creature was too helpless to be sent into the street; and Mr.
Clifford and Katinka carried him into the stable, and laid him upon a
bed of sweet hay.
"I'm glad not to be a Hoojer," said Dotty, with a severe look at her
Cousin Horace. "You don't ever see such bad men in the State of Maine.
The whiskey is locked up; and I don't know as there _is_ any whiskey."
"Down East is a great place, Dotty! Don't I wish I was a Yankee--I mean
a 'Publican?"
"But you can't be, Horace," returned little Dotty, looking up at him
with deep pity in her bright eyes; "you weren't born there. You're a
Hoojer, and you'll have to _stay_ a Hoojer."
CHAPTER XI.
SNIGGLING FOR EELS.
Next day Mr. Clifford said he would take all the children,
except Miss Flyaway, to see a coal mine. It was nothing new to Horace,
who was in the habit of exploring his native town as critically as a
regularly employed surveyor. You could hardly show him anything which he
had not already seen and examined carefully, from a steamboat to a dish
of "sour-krout." Grace and Cassy were by no means as learned, and had
never ventured under ground. They feared, yet longed, to make the
experiment.
As for Dotty, she knew Jennie Vance's ring had been found in a mine.
She had a vague notion that strange, half-human creatures were at work
in the bowels of the earth, hunting for similar bits of jewelry. She had
a secret hope that, if she went down there, she might herself see
something shining in a dark corner; and what if it should be a piece of
yellow gold, just suitable to be made into a ring to contain the oyster
pearl!
How surprised Jennie Vance would be to see such a precious treasure on
her little friend's finger!
"She didn't find her ring herself, and it isn't a pearl. But I shan't
give mine away, and shan't promise to, and then tell that I never.
That's a _hyper'blee_!"
Dotty had found a new name for white lies.
"It is so nice," said Grace, as they started from the door, "to have a
little cousin visiting us! for it makes us think of going to a great
many places where we never went before."
"Then I'm glad there _is_ a little cousin, and _very_ glad it's me."
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