- end_line
- 919
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:56.335Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 844
- text
- "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, gayly. "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-parlor, 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
neighbors. 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.
I stayed home all that day; every hour or two bending over the table,
both eye and ear. Towards night, I thought the ticking grew more
distinct, and seemed divided from my ear by a thinner and thinner
partition of the wood. I thought, too, that I perceived a faint
heaving up, or bulging of the wood, in the place where I had placed
the tumbler. To put an end to the suspense, my wife proposed taking
a knife and cutting into the wood there; but I had a less impatient
plan; namely, that she and I should sit up with the table that night,
as, from present symptoms, the bug would probably make its appearance
before morning. For myself, I was curious to see the first advent of
the thing--the first dazzle of the chick as it chipped the shell.
The idea struck my wife not unfavorably. She insisted that both Julia
and Anna should be of the party, in order that the evidence of their
senses should disabuse their minds of all nursery nonsense. For that
spirits should tick, and that spirits should take unto themselves
the form of bugs, was, to my wife, the most foolish of all foolish
imaginations. True, she could not account for the thing; but she had
all confidence that it could be, and would yet be, somehow explained,
and that to her entire satisfaction. Without knowing it herself, my
wife was a female Democritus. For my part, my present feelings were of
a mixed sort. In a strange and not unpleasing way, I gently oscillated
between Democritus and Cotton Mather. But to my wife and daughters
I assumed to be pure Democritus--a jeerer at all tea-table spirits
whatever.
So, laying in a good supply of candles and crackers, all four of us
sat up with the table, and at the same time sat round it. For a while
my wife and I carried on an animated conversation. But my daughters
were silent. Then my wife and I would have had a rubber of whist, but
my daughters could not be prevailed upon to join. So we played whist
with two dummies literally; my wife won the rubber and, fatigued with
victory, put away the cards.
Half past eleven o'clock. No sign of the bug. The candles began to
burn dim. My wife was just in the act of snuffing them, when a sudden,
violent, hollow, resounding, rumbling, thumping was heard.
Julia and Anna sprang to their feet.
- title
- Chunk 12