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Updated: June 6, 2025
Cerissa sat on the kitchen porch sewing and expanding under the deep attention of the cook; they could see Middy a little way off on the tennis-court wiping the mud gravely from a truant ball he had found among the nasturtiums. All was as peaceful as the time of day and the season of the year. "Yes," said Cerissa solemnly.
If anybody wanted to see him after he shut himself in there for the night, they had to stand to be questioned through that wall-slit before he opened the door. Yes, ma'am! He was on the watch in there the whole time like a thing in a trap." "Are you afraid to go back alone?" Mrs. Bogardus spoke with chilling irony. Cerissa backed away in silence, her heart thumping.
You will be glad not to have the trouble of those carpenters, Cerissa? Pulling down old houses is dirty work." "Oh, dear! I wouldn't mind the dirt. Anything to get rid of that old rat's nest on top of the kitchen chamber. I hate to have such out of the way places on my mind. I can't get around to do every single thing, and it's years years, Mrs.
I don't suppose you want to have stray tramps in there in the old house, building fires in the loom-room, where, if a spark got loose, it would blaze up them draughty stairs, and the whole house would go in a minute." Cerissa stopped to gain breath. "Making fires? Are you sure of that? Has any smoke been seen coming out of that chimney?" "Why, it's been raining so! And the trees have got so tall!
Bogardus rose and shook out her skirts. "Will Chauncey bring my horse when it stops raining? By the way, did you get the furniture down that was in that room, Cerissa? the old secretary? I am going to have it put in order for Mr. Paul's room. Old furniture is the fashion now, you know." Cerissa caught her breath nervously. "Mrs. Bogardus I couldn't do a thing about it!
Something of Cerissa's injured importance survived the transmission of the message, causing Mrs. Bogardus to smile to herself as she rose. Cerissa was waiting in the dining-room. She kept her seat as Mrs. Bogardus entered. Her eyes did not rise higher than the lady's dress, which she examined with a fierce intentness of comparison while she opened her errand.
But when Mary died, within six months, folks repeated what she had been saying about her 'warning. The 'death watch' she called it. We can't all of us control our feelings about such things, and she was a lonely widow woman." "Well, do you believe that ticking is going on up there now?" asked Mrs. Bogardus. Cerissa looked uneasy. "Is the door locked?" "I re'ly couldn't say," she confessed.
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