After my hearers were worked up
to a proper state of excitement, I paused for applause.
It came in a most unexpected form, however, for Mrs. Grant burst out
laughing, and the two boys--Johnny and Joe--rolled about in convulsions
of merriment.
Much displeased, I demanded the cause of their laughter, and then joined
in the general shout when Mrs. Grant informed me that Bezee Tucker
lived, died in, and haunted the tumble-down house at the other end of
the lane, and not the cottage where I was staying.
"Then who or what made those mysterious noises?" I asked, relieved but
rather displeased at the downfall of my romance.
"My brother Seth," replied Mrs. Grant, still laughing. "I thought you
might be afraid to be there all alone, so he slipped into the bed-room,
and I forgot to tell you. He's a powerful snorer, and that's one of the
awful sounds.
"The other was the dripping of salt water; for you wanted some, and the
girl got it in a leaky pail. Seth swept out the water when he left the
cottage early in the morning."
I said nothing about having seen through the keyhole the harmless razor;
but wishing to get some praise for my heroic encounter with the burglar,
I mildly asked if it was the custom in York for men as well as turkeys
to roost in trees.
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