- end_line
- 739
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:45.581Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 707
- text
- "I hope sir, you have been bringing no bugs into this house," said my
wife, severely.
"The bug, the bug!" I cried; "the bug under the tumbler."
"Bugs in tumblers!" cried the girls; "not _our_ tumblers, papa? You
have not been putting bugs into our tumblers? Oh, what does--what
_does_ it all mean?"
"Do you see this hole, this crack here?" said I, putting my finger on
the spot.
"That I do," said my wife, with high displeasure. "And how did it come
there? What have you been doing to the table?"
"Do you see this crack?" repeated I, intensely.
"Yes, yes," said Julia; "that was what frightened me so; it looks so
like witch-work."
"Spirits! spirits!" cried Anna.
"Silence!" said my wife. "Go on, sir, and tell us what you know of the
crack."
"Wife and daughters," said I, solemnly, "out of that crack, or hole,
while I was sitting all alone here last night, a wonderful--"
Here, involuntarily, I paused, fascinated by the expectant attitudes
and bursting eyes of Julia and Anna.
"What, what?" cried Julia.
- title
- Chunk 2