"Father," she cried, in terror, "let me in! It is I, Hannah, and Sam is
in the wood-shed."

After a moment the key was turned and Hannah stepped inside, locking the
door after her.

In the middle of the floor her father stood, with his long white hair
falling around his corpse-like face and his eyes bright with the
excitement of delirium. The bed was moved toward the center of the room
and in the farthest corner a board of the floor had been partially
removed.

"What are you doing?" Hannah asked, advancing quickly to her father.

"Oh, Hannah," the old man said, whimperingly; "I did so want to be sure
that it was there. I dreamed it was gone, that it had never been there,
and it was so real I wanted to see. I thought I'd get done before you
came, but it was so hard. I cannot get the boards up. But you can do it;
go down on your knees and take the floor up just this once. I'll never
ask it again. It was thirty-one years ago to-night, and when it is
thirty-two I shall be dead. Go down, Hannah, I want to know if it is
there still, the horror I have slept over every night for thirty-one
long years."

"No, father," Hannah answered, firmly. "Ask me anything but that. Be
satisfied that it _is_ there. Who should take it away, when no one knows
but ourselves? Get into bed, father; you are shivering with cold."

Like a conquered child the old man obeyed her and crept into bed, while