Suppose I go and see."
"Do," said his wife.
She sat alone for half an hour, watching that sudden going out of the
day peculiar to the latitude.
"That moon is ghost enough for one house," she said, as her husband
returned. "It has gone right down the chimney."
"Patty," said little White, "the drug-clerk says the boys are going to
shivaree old Poquelin to-night. I'm going to try to stop it."
"Why, White," said his wife, "you'd better not. You'll get hurt."
"No, I'll not."
"Yes, you will."
"I'm going to sit out here until they come along. They're compelled to
pass right by here."
"Why, White, it may be midnight before they start; you're not going to
sit out here till then."
"Yes, I am."
"Well, you're very foolish," said Mrs. White in an undertone, looking
anxious, and tapping one of the steps with her foot.
They sat a very long time talking over little family matters.
"What's that?" at last said Mrs. White.
"That's the nine-o'clock gun," said White, and they relapsed into a
long-sustained, drowsy silence.
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