"Child of the red tam-o'-shanter, I'm very sorry I
was rude to you yesterday, for I liked your steady stroke
with the paddle; and I admired, even more, the way you
spurned me when you saw that among all the cads in
the world I am number one in Class A. And these
golden bubbles (O girl of the red tam-o'-shanter!), if
they are not yours you shall help me find the owner, for
we are neighbors, you and I, and there must be peace
between our houses."
With this foolishness I rose, thrust the beads into my
pocket, and paddled home in the waning glory of the
sunset.
That night, as I was going quite late to bed, bearing
a candle to light me through the dark hall to my room,
I heard a curious sound, as of some one walking stealthily
through the house. At first I thought Bates was still
abroad, but I waited, listening for several minutes, without
being able to mark the exact direction of the sound
or to identify it with him. I went on to the door of my
room, and still a muffled step seemed to follow me,-first
it had come from below, then it was much like some one
going up stairs,-but where? In my own room I still
heard steps, light, slow, but distinct. Again there was a
stumble and a hurried recovery,-ghosts, I reflected, do
not fall down stairs!
The sound died away, seemingly in some remote part
of the house, and though I prowled about for an hour
it did not recur that night.