- end_line
- 10808
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T03:55:03.883Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10709
- text
- She looked earnestly at the crack, leaning over it.
‘Are you sure?’ said she, looking up, but still bent over.
‘Sure, sure.’
She was silent. I began to think that the mystery of the thing began to
tell even upon her. Yes, thought I, I shall presently see my wife
shaking and shuddering, and, who knows, calling in some old dominie to
exorcise the table, and drive out the spirits.
‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ said she suddenly, and not without
excitement.
‘What, wife?’ said I, all eagerness, expecting some mystical
proposition; ‘what, wife?’
‘We will rub this table all over with that celebrated “roach powder”
I’ve heard of.’
‘Good gracious! Then you don’t think it’s spirits?’
‘Spirits?’
The emphasis of scornful incredulity was worthy of Democritus himself.
‘But this ticking--this ticking?’ said I.
‘I’ll whip that out of it.’
‘Come, come, wife,’ said I, ‘you are going too far the other way, now.
Neither roach powder nor whipping will cure this table. It’s a queer
table, wife; there’s no blinking it.’
‘I’ll have it rubbed, though,’ she replied, ‘well rubbed’; and calling
Biddy, she bade her get wax and brush, and give the table a vigorous
manipulation. That done, the cloth was again laid, and we sat down to
our morning meal; but my daughters did not make their appearance. Julia
and Anna took no breakfast that day.
When the cloth was removed, in a business-like way my wife went to work
with a dark-coloured cement, and hermetically closed the little hole in
the table.
My daughters looking pale, I insisted upon taking them out for a walk
that morning, when the following conversation ensued:
‘My worst presentiments about that table are being verified, papa,’ said
Julia; ‘not for nothing was that intimation of the cloven foot on my
shoulder.’
‘Nonsense,’ said I. ‘Let us go into Mrs. Brown’s, and have an
ice-cream.’
The spirit of Democritus was stronger on me now. By a curious
coincidence, it strengthened with the strength of the sunlight.
‘But is it not miraculous,’ said Anna, ‘how a bug should come out of a
table?’
‘Not at all, my daughter. It is a very common thing for bugs to come out
of wood. You yourself must have seen them coming out of the ends of the
billets on the hearth.’
‘Ah, but that wood is almost fresh from the woodland. But the table is
at least a hundred years old.’
‘What of that?’ said I, gaily. ‘Have not live toads been found in the
hearts of dead rocks, as old as creation?’
‘Say what you will, papa, I feel it is spirits,’ said Julia. ‘Do, do
now, my dear papa, have that haunted table removed from the house.’
‘Nonsense,’ said I.
By another curious coincidence, the more they felt frightened, the more
I felt brave.
Evening came.
‘This ticking,’ said my wife; ‘do you think that another bug will come
of this continued ticking?’
Curiously enough, that had not occurred to me before. I had not thought
of there being twins of bugs. But now, who knew; there might be even
triplets.
I resolved to take precautions, and, if there was to be a second bug,
infallibly secure it. During the evening, the ticking was again heard.
About ten o’clock I clapped a tumbler over the spot, as near as I could
judge of it by my ear. Then we all retired, and locking the door of the
cedar-parlour, I put the key in my pocket.
In the morning, nothing was to be seen, but the ticking was heard. The
trepidation of my daughters returned. They wanted to call in the
neighbours. But to this my wife was vigorously opposed. We should be the
laughing-stock of the whole town. So it was agreed that nothing should
be disclosed. Biddy received strict charges; and, to make sure, was not
allowed that week to go to confession, lest she should tell the priest.
- title
- Chunk 2