“Nonsense!” said Miss Sophonisba, quite restored to herself at the thought of actual danger.  She caught up a great pair of tongs and started down stairs, the candlestick in one hand, the tongs in the other, Miss Faithful, who dared not stay behind, threw a shawl over her night-dress and followed close at her sister’s heels, while the cat crawled still farther under the clothes, and refused to answer to Miss Sophonisba’s call.  There was nothing unusual down stairs.  The two outside doors were locked, the fire was burning brightly, and Miss Sophonisba’s work lay on the table just as she had left it.  The cellar door indeed, which latched imperfectly, stood open.

“Some one has come in and locked the door after them, and gone down cellar,” was Miss Faithful’s whispered suggestion.

“How could they?” said Miss Sophonisba.  “We didn’t hear any one; and besides, they would have left their tracks on the floor this wet night; but I’ll go down and look.  You stay here by the fire.”

But Miss Faithful preferred to follow her sister.  They found nothing out of place in the cellar, into which, if you remember, there is no outside door.  Every tub and barrel and milk-pan was in its place, and the surface of the pit of water, which served the family as a cistern, was undisturbed.

“It must have been the door flying open that scared the cat,” said Miss Sophonisba, “Faithful, you’re as white as a sheet.  I shall just heat up some elderberry wine and make you drink it;” which she did then and there, and, no further disturbance taking place, the sisters went to bed.  The cat, however, whose usual place was by the kitchen fire, would not go down stairs, and when at last turned out, she mewed so piteously and scratched so persistently at the bed-room door that Miss Sophonisba gave way to her and let her in to sleep all night at the foot of the bed.

No further annoyance took place, nor was Miss Faithful troubled with a repetition of her curious dream.  The next week, however, as Miss Sophonisba was in the kitchen making preparations for tea, she was startled by a scream from her sister in the next room, succeeded by the sound of a heavy fall.  She hurried into the work-room.  Miss Faithful lay on the floor quite insensible.  It was some time before her sister’s anxious exertions were rewarded by signs of returning animation.  When at last she opened her eyes, she burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing and crying.

“For gracious sake, sister!” said Miss Sophonisba, really alarmed, “what is the matter?”

“Oh dear! oh dear!” sobbed Miss Faithful.  “It was John!  I know it was John, and I could not speak to him!”

“What?” said Miss Sophonisba, alarmed for her sister’s wits.  “What was John?”

“It—­that—­the thing that came behind me:  I know it was!”

“When?” asked her sister.

“As I was sitting there in my chair something came behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.  It was John—­I know it was.  His hand was all cold and wet:  he came out of the sea to call me.”