"Tick--tick! Who comes here?" the old clock now seemed to say, loudly,
solemnly ticking.

"How I shall muddy this sacred floor! Can't help it, though! Aunt
Stanshy," he now began to call; at the same time he rapped on the
baluster. "Aunt Stanshy!"

He looked up and saw the light from the lamp that she kept burning at
night. Soon there was the sound of a stirring, and a tall figure in white
bent over the railing. A second and smaller statue of snow was there in a
moment, leaning over the railing by the side of Aunt Stanshy.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to trouble you, but I've just come from the dock, and--"

"Why, you look like a mud-turtle," said Aunt Stanshy, bending over still
farther and holding out the lamp, whose light fell on Will.

"Mud-turtle? I don't wonder you say so, and there's another and
worse-looking one out in the dock."

"Two mud-turtles? What do you mean? Where _have_ you been?"

"I mean this; I was coming home and heard some one calling for help, and
ran to the dock and saw--no, I couldn't _see_ a barley-corn before my
nose--but I knew somebody was down there, and without thinking--"

"Just like you!" said Aunt Stanshy to herself.