light a candle.''
But have you ever tried to light a candle from a rush-light in a tin shade? I could not get the wick to catch; and she kept on, weeping and calling me Agnes, until my hand shook so much I could not hold the candle steady.
I said, ''You must be quiet, miss. There''s no man; and if there is, then I shall call for Mr Way to come and catch him.''
I took up the rush-light. ''Don''t take the light!'' she cried at once. ''I beg you, don''t!''
I said I would only take it to the door, to show her there was no-one there; and while she wept and clutched at the bed-clothes I went with the light to the door to her parlour and—all in a flinching, winking kind of way—I pulled it open.
The room beyond was very dark. The few great bits of furniture sat humped about, like the baskets with the thieves in, in the play of AH Baba. I thought how dismal it would be if I had come all the way to Briar, from the Borough, to be murdered by burglars. And what if the burglar proved to be a man I knew—say, one of Mr Ibbs''s nephews? Queer things like that do happen.
So I stood gazing fearfully at the dark room, thinking all this, half-inclined to call out—in case there were burglars there—that they should hold their hands, that I was family; but of course, there was no-one, it was quiet as a church. I saw that, and then went quickly to the parlour door, and looked into the passage; and that