"But how should you know?"
Indeed he wondered; and it seemed to him as if the blot were some
strange night thing that must have companioned him, invisibly, when he
kept his nocturnal watches in the drawing-room, and that now partially
revealed itself to him in the, perhaps, more acutely occult region of
the basement.
"How should I know!" rejoined the blot with obvious, though very hoarse,
irony. "Whatever d'you take me for?"
The Prophet began to wonder, but before he had gone on wondering for
more than about half a minute, the blot continued,--
"She's gone to bed."
"I know she has," said the Prophet, presuming that the blot, which
seemed instinct with all knowledge, was referring to his grandmother.
"But she knows you're at it again," continued the blot.
The Prophet started violently and leaned upon the window-sill.
"No! How can that be?" he ejaculated.
"Ho! Them girls knows everything, especially the old uns," said the
blot, with an audible chuckle.
"Good gracious!" gasped the Prophet, overwhelmed at this mysterious
visitant's familiar description of his revered grandmother.
"Have you seen her to-night?" inquired the blot, controlling its
merriment.
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