“Highboy, and Lowboy, and Owl, and the Firedogs come out at night.”

When Grandmother asked at breakfast if she had slept well, Hortense replied truthfully that she had.

“I don’t know what got into Jeremiah last night,” said Grandmother. “I heard something myself, and Esmerelda declares he ran about the house like one possessed. This morning we heard him in the attic.”

Hortense, eating her egg and toast, thought she might tell Grandmother of last night’s surprising events, but of course she wouldn’t be believed. So on second thought she said nothing.

Slipping away to the kitchen when breakfast was over, she found Jeremiah begging for his breakfast and Aunt Esmerelda regarding him with hands on hips, shaking her head.

“Yo’ sho’ is possessed,” said Aunt Esmerelda. “Such carrying on I never heard. I spec’s de evil one was after yo’, an’ I hopes he catches yo’ and takes yo’ away wid him.”

Jeremiah winked his yellow eyes sleepily in reply, but at the sight of Hortense he lashed his tail and turned away. Aunt Esmerelda, grumbling, gave him a saucer of milk.

“Yo’ keep away from dat animal,” said Aunt Esmerelda to Hortense. “No one knows de wickedness of his heart.”

Hortense waited in the kitchen until Mary was free to begin her morning’s task of dusting and tidying the rooms.

“May I come?” she begged.

“Sure,” said Mary kindly. “I’m dusting the big parlor this morning, and there are lots of interesting things to see there.”

In the big unused parlor she threw open the shutters and parted the curtains to let in the sunlight. Hortense was at once absorbed in the treasures she found. The room was filled with things which Grandfather had brought home from his travels all over the world. There were heavy, dark red tables carved with all kinds of flowers and animals, bright silk cushions, little ebony tabourets with brass trays upon them, curious vases and lacquer boxes from China and Japan. On the mantel was a beautiful tree of pink coral in a glass case, and beside it were wonderful shells and little elephants carved from ivory. On the walls were bits of embroidery framed and covered with glass, picturing bright-plumaged birds and tigers standing in snow.

Most fascinating of all were the strange weapons arrayed in a pattern upon one wall spears, guns, bows and arrows, swords and knives, boomerangs, war clubs, bolos weapons which Hortense had seen only in pictures in her geography and in books of travel. They all seemed dead and harmless enough now, not likely to come down from the wall and wander about the house at night. Hortense doubted whether they would even speak.

However, one was different, quite wide-awake and, Hortense could see, only waiting for a chance to leap down from the wall. It was a long knife with a green handle made from some sort of stone. Its shape was most curious, like the path of a snake in the dust. Like a snake, too, it seemed deadly, and the light that played upon its sinuous length and dripped from the point like water, glittered like the eyes of a serpent.

“What an awful knife,” said Hortense.

“Those spears and knives give me the shivers,” said Mary. “I’ve told your Grandfather I’d never touch them.”

“Most of them are dead,” said Hortense, “but the one with the curly blade and the green handle looks as though it could come right down at you. I’d like to have that one.”

Mary jumped.

“Don’t you touch it,” she said severely. “You might hurt yourself dreadfully.”

Hortense said no more, but resolved to ask Grandfather about the knife at the first opportunity. Sometime, when she had a chance, she would come to the parlor and talk with the knife. It must have lovely, shivery things to tell.

There was also a couch which fascinated her, a long, low couch with short curved legs and brass clawed feet. Hortense surveyed it for a long time.

“It looks like an alligator asleep,” she said at last. “I wonder if it ever wakes up.”

“What does?” Mary asked.

“The couch,” said Hortense. “See its short curved legs, just like an alligator’s? And it’s long. Probably its tail is tucked away inside somewhere. Alligators have long tails, you know. I saw an alligator once that looked just like that.”

“I declare,” said Mary, “you are an awful child. I won’t stay in this room a bit longer. I feel creepy.”

She gathered up her dust cloths and broom, and Hortense went reluctantly with her.

“Do show me the attic, Mary,” Hortense pleaded.

“Not to-day,” said Mary firmly. “You’d be seeing things in the corners. I never saw your like!”

So for the rest of the morning, Mary dusted other rooms in which all the furniture seemed dead or asleep and, therefore, quite uninteresting.

After luncheon, however, Hortense asked Grandfather to tell her about the knife with the crinkly blade.

“That,” said Grandfather, “is a Malay kris, such as the pirates in the East Indies carry. An old sea captain gave it to me. It once belonged to a Malay pirate. When he was captured, my friend secured it and gave it to me in return for a service I did for him.”

“It looks as though it could tell terrible stories,” said Hortense.

“No doubt it would if it could talk,” said Grandfather. “It is very old and doubtless has been in a hundred fights and killed men.”

“You wouldn’t let me carry it?” Hortense asked.

“Gracious no,” said Grandfather. “It is dangerous. What made you think of such a thing?”

What Hortense thought was that it would be a very nice and handy weapon to hunt the cat with at night, but she couldn’t tell Grandfather that; so she said nothing.

“It’s a nice afternoon,” said Grandfather, “and little girls should be out-of-doors. Run out and see the barn and the orchard.”

Hortense did as she was told, wandering about the yard, exploring the loft of the barn, and the orchard. At last she came back to the house, for this interested her more than anything else.

There were many bushes and shrubs planted close to the walls, forming fine secret corners in which to hide and look unseen upon the world without. Hortense hid a while in each of them, wishing she had some one with whom to play hide and seek.

She found one bush which was particularly inviting, for it was beside an open window of the basement. She looked in and was surprised to see that the window opened not into the basement but into a wooden box or chute that sloped steeply, and then dropped out of sight into the gloom below.

Hortense peered in as far as she could and as she did so, much to her surprise, a head appeared in the darkness where the wooden box dropped out of sight.

It was the head of a dirty little boy. As she stared at it, she recognized the little boy who had turned handsprings in the yard next door as she and Uncle Jonah had driven by yesterday.

“Hello,” said Hortense.

“Hello,” said the boy. “Help me out. I slipped.”

He endeavored to lift himself to the chute whose edge came to his chin, but it was too slippery and he could not. Hortense stretched out her arm to help him, but the distance was too great.

“However did you get there?” Hortense asked.

“I wanted to see where it went,” said the boy, “but once I got in I slipped and fell to the bottom.”

“Where does it go?” Hortense asked.

“Only to the furnace,” said the boy in disgust.

“Oh,” said Hortense. “I thought it might go to a secret room or something.”

“Can’t you get a rope?” the boy asked.

Hortense considered.

“I couldn’t pull you out if I did. I’ll have to get Uncle Jonah.”

“He’ll lick me,” said the boy.

“Oh, I know,” said Hortense. “We’ll play you’re a prisoner in a dungeon, and every day I’ll bring you things to eat.”

But the boy didn’t seem to like this idea.

“I want to get out,” he said, and disappeared.

“I believe there’s some sort of a door at the bottom,” he said at last, reappearing, “but it opens from the other side. Couldn’t you get into the cellar and open it?”

“Aunt Esmerelda might see me and ask what I was doing,” she answered. “Maybe I can get by when she isn’t looking. You wait.”

“I’ll wait all right,” said the boy. “Don’t you be too long. It’s dark in here.”

“The dark won’t hurt you,” said Hortense, but to this the boy only snorted by way of reply.

Hortense peeped cautiously into the kitchen. Aunt Esmerelda was seated in her chair, fast asleep.

“What luck,” thought Hortense, and she tiptoed across the kitchen to the cellar door. She opened it very carefully, shut it again without noise, and crept down the stairs.

The basement was dark, but soon Hortense began to see her way and walked to the furnace. At the back of it was the wooden chute that led to the window above.

She knocked gently upon it.

“Are you in there?” she asked.

“Yes,” said a muffled voice.

Hortense looked for the door of which the boy had spoken and at last found a panel which slid in grooves. She pulled at this but succeeded in raising it only a couple of inches.

“It’s stuck,” said Hortense.

“I can help,” said the boy, slipping his fingers through the opening.

He and Hortense pulled and tugged and at last succeeded in raising the panel about a foot. They couldn’t budge it an inch further.

“I guess I can squeeze through,” said the boy.

Scraping sounds came from the box, and the noise of heels on the wooden sides. The boy’s head appeared and then an arm. Hortense seized the arm and pulled.

At last a very dusty, grimy boy wriggled through and, rising gasping to his feet, dusted his clothes.

“What’s your name?” Hortense asked.

“Andy. What’s yours?”

Hortense told him. They looked at each other without further words.

“You’ve got to get through the kitchen without Aunt Esmerelda seeing you,” said Hortense, and led the way to the cellar stairs.

“You stay here until I see if she’s still asleep,” Hortense said as she crept cautiously to the top.

She opened the door very gently and peered in. Aunt Esmerelda still sat in her corner, asleep. Hortense motioned to Andy, who came as quietly as he could, which wasn’t very quiet for his heels clumped loudly on the stairs.

“Hush!” Hortense whispered. “Now go as fast and as quietly as you can across the kitchen. Hide behind the barn, and I’ll follow you.”

Andy ran across the room, but as he went out of the door he struck his toe against the sill, making a great clatter.

Aunt Esmerelda awoke with a start.

“Lan’s sakes, wha’s dat?” she exclaimed.

“May I have some cookies, Aunt Esmerelda?” Hortense asked.

Aunt Esmerelda’s eyes were rolling.

“I ‘clare I seed somefin’ goin’ out dat a doh. Dis yere house ’ll be de def of me. Cookies? ’Cose you can have cookies, honey.”

Hortense helped herself freely, remembering that Andy would want some. With these in her hands she walked through the yard and around the barn, where she found Andy.

“Cookies!” cheered Andy, and falling upon his share which Hortense gave him, he ate them one after another as fast as he could, never saying a word.

“Didn’t you have any luncheon?” Hortense asked.

“Of course,” said Andy, “but I squeezed so thin getting out of that box that I’m hungry again.”

“I suppose,” said Hortense, “that when I want a second helping of dessert and haven’t room for it, all I need do is to squeeze in and out of the box and then I can start all over again.”

It seemed a delightful plan.

“We might do it now and get some more cookies,” said Andy, hopefully.

“Aunt Esmerelda would catch us and tell Uncle Jonah,” said Hortense.

She meditated on the delightful possibilities of the box.

“We could play hide and seek, sometime when nobody’s about,” she said. “It’s a grand place to hide.”

“But we both know of it and there’s nobody else to play with,” said Andy.

This was very true unless Highboy and Lowboy and the Firedogs and Owl should be taken into the game. Hortense looked at Andy wondering whether to tell him of these friends of hers and of the Cat.

“If we played at night,” said Hortense, “we could have lots of people. Highboy, and Lowboy, and Owl, and the Firedogs come out at night.”

Andy stared at her with round eyes.

“They’re the furniture, you know,” said Hortense. “You can see some things are alive and waiting to come out of themselves. I’m sure Alligator Sofa and Malay Kris would play, too, if we asked them.”

Andy’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“Honest?” he asked doubtfully.

“They came out last night and we chased the cat, Jeremiah, into the attic where he disappeared,” said Hortense. “We must find out where he went.”

“Aw, you’re fooling,” said Andy, but he spoke weakly.

“Cross my heart ’n hope to die,” said Hortense. “You come over to-night after everybody’s asleep, and I’ll show you.”

“I suppose I could get out of my window all right,” said Andy doubtfully, “but how could I get into your house?”

“By the cellar window and the wooden chute as you did to-day!” cried Hortense. “Then I’d unlock the cellar door, and you could come up.”

Andy seemed not to like the prospect.

“It will be dark,” he said.

“Oh, if you’re afraid of the dark, of course,” Hortense sniffed.

“Who said I was afraid?” challenged Andy.

“Well, come if you aren’t afraid,” said Hortense. “But you mustn’t make any noise, of course, or they’ll catch us.”

Andy looked long at her and swallowed hard.

“I’ll come,” he said bravely.