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SLEEP, GENTLE SLEEP.
115
'WHO S THAT MAN !" SHE SCREAMED.
hands to her head, crying out, "Mrs.
Highboy, Mrs. Highboy, I'm " but
before she could finish speaking she had dropped on the floor, asleep. That made three.
For some hours a deep silence reigned through the room. The only sounds to be heard were heavy breathing and the chimes of a neighboring clock. As the latter rang out the hour of two A. M. a soft creaking noise broke the silence. It stopped, and then began again till secretly and quietly a head appeared at the window. Then it was suddenly withdrawn, only to appear again. The window frame was raised noiselessly, and a. man stepped in cautiously.
"All asleep," he whispered, looking around, and going from one to the other. "Dead asleep, too. Here's a chance." Collecting in a hurry as many bandy things as he could cram into a small bag he carried, the burglar approached the sideboard,
which was littered with silver. "Here's a haul !" he muttered, as he hastily pushed the ware into his bag. "And here," he added, taking up the decanter, and placing it to his mouth, "here's a health to all generous, hospitable people." He walked to the window, tottered, tried to grasp the sash, and then collapsed heavily on the floor, his bag crashing after him.
Mrs. Highboy stirred, gave a groan, rubbed her eyes, and gasped, "Where am I ? What has happened ? Did I
faint? Did I " Then looking
around she spied the presence of her husband, Clorinda, and a strange man. Rushing to Mr. Highboy, she shook him to and fro, till at last he opened his eyes.
"Wake up ! Wake up !" she shouted.
"All rf ! All ri' !" yawned Highbov. "What's matter?"
"Matter?" almost screamed his wife. "Who's that man? What's the