a warm evening, the sash was raised. Shortly after the youngster got to
bed, something slipped over the back fence, and after prowling about the
yard for a moment, climbed upon the shed and through the window into the
room where Mike was just in the act of falling asleep. The thing, which
was about the youngster's size, crept over the floor toward the bed,
and then with a spring, landed squarely upon----"

"Some people use more wind in telling a story than would fill a
maintop-sail," drawled Tom. "There's nothing like getting at your
subject. Now, when we reached the little wooden house we entered, and
after accomplishing our errand, started back to the main building. While
on the way it suddenly occurred to me that I had forgotten to close the
door between the two rooms of which the house was composed. There was an
open window in the front room, and there was no telling what might get
in. I told the fellows to go on and I tasked back to the little house. I
still carried the lantern, but just as I reached the door, it went out.
I tell you, I felt like letting the whole thing go, but I didn't want to
get the nurse into trouble. So I unlocked the front door, opened it,
and, Great Scott! I saw----"

"There's everything in choosing a subject when you want to tell a good
story," calmly interrupted Bill. "This story I am trying to tell has a
laugh in it. You don't have to keep your hair down with both hands and
feel the cold chills playing tag up and down your spinal column, like
you have to do when some people are trying to yarn. Well, when the thing
that had crept through the window landed on the bed, Mike let out a
yell that could have been heard in Dublin. 'Ow-w-w!' he whooped,
scrambling to the floor. He caught one sight of the visitor, and then
made a dash for the window and slid clear to the ground, leaving pieces
of shirt and his epidermis on every nail on the shed roof. The noise he