A NIGHT CALL 115 



the wagon heels over dangerously amid a chorus 

 of ear-splitting howls and pattering feet, as the 

 shaggy devil bolts for home. We grin cheer- 

 fully, for the dog has learned a lesson. 



We pass through the village at a racing gait, 

 and are at the turn in the road where we pull up 

 to get our bearings, then to the right more 

 slowly. How are we to find the house in the dark- 

 ness ? 



It must be here, for a lighted lantern hangs 

 from a post. We drive in, and a man in overalls 

 and rubber boots takes our mare without a word, 

 and motions us toward the door. We enter the 

 sitting-room. In the corner is a melodeon, closed, 

 and covered with a green cloth. On the melodeon 

 is an old violin with all the strings broken but 

 the G. A shaded lamp burns on the centre-table. 

 There is a case of stuffed birds on a small marble- 

 topped table in another corner, and a glass frame 

 of wax flowers on a shelf. On the walls are two 

 black - framed oval portraits, horrible carica- 

 tures of deceased persons, the lady in black and 

 white checked dress, low in the neck, and with 

 a large locket or medallion on her breast. Her 

 hair is parted in the middle and brought down 

 over her ears in a quaint old style recently re- 

 vived. On all sides her ample skirts spread in 

 billows. The man is brave in stock and tight- 

 sleeved, narrow-shouldered black coat, and vo- 



