Stellato clinging to the legs. Mrs. Colfodder
had had her back-hair taken down, and the housemaid was certain that
somebody tried to kiss her.
We made for the parlor with all convenient speed. Notwithstanding the
solemn adjurations of Dr. Burge, we entertained guilty hopes of seeing
some of the marvels which had become such positive drugs in our absence.
But to _see_ anything was, for a long time, out of the question; for the
spirits had insisted upon having the shutters closed, and shawls pinned
up before the cracks in the same, ere they would favor mortals with an
exhibition. Finally, dim outlines revealed themselves through the
obscurity. We made out a female figure (it was the cook, so Miss Prowley
whispered) who was haranguing the assembly at the rate of a word every
thirty seconds, or thereabouts.
_Cook as Twynintuft:_--"I am Mister Twynintuft. I set lots by you all. I
left my bright spirit-home to come here to-day. The squashes was musty
afore they was brought into the house. No blame to the cook. Them
pickled termarterses couldn't keep into spring, and so I tell you now.
The spheres is a dry place, and everythin' is most a-beautiful here."
_Betty, the housemaid, loquitur._--(She appears in the character of
Red-Jacket, a popular personation upon these occasions,--it being very
easy to talk _Indian_ by the simple recipe of transposing the nominative
and objective cases of the personal pronoun.
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