The low whistle
sounded again, and a husky voice said,--
"Are you there?"
"Yes," replied the Prophet, summoning all his courage. "I am."
"What 'a' you put out the light for?" said the voice, which seemed to
come from far away.
"I haven't put it out," returned the Prophet. "It's gone away."
At this juncture Malkiel, impelled by curiosity, ceased from trembling,
and, leaning forward upon the loving-cup, glued his ear to the key-hole
of the cupboard.
"Why was you so late to-night?" proceeded the voice. "She's been in a
rare taking, I can tell you."
"Who?"
"Who? You know well enough."
"Do you mean my grandmother?"
"Your grandmother!" ejaculated the voice with apparent sarcasm. "Ah! of
course, what do you think?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said the poor Prophet, whose reason was
beginning to totter upon its throne.
"Well," proceeded the voice, "she thought you'd give it up."
"What--my grandmother did?"
"Ah, your grandmother. Get away with you! Ha! ha! ha!"
And the mysterious visitant broke forth into a peal of rather mundane
laughter. After indulging in this unseemly mirth for about a minute and
a half, the personage resumed,--
"The Crab did for her.
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