"_Monday, November 7th._--Tom and Mable came running into Delia's room
in a great state of excitement after tea to-day. 'Mother!' they cried,
'Mother! Do come! Some horrid dog has got a cat in the spare room and is
tearing it to pieces.' Delia, who was mending my socks at the time,
flung them anywhere, and springing to her feet, flew to the spare room.
The door was shut, but proceeding from within was the most appalling
pandemonium of screeches and snarls, just as if some dog had got hold of
a cat by the neck and was shaking it to death. Delia swung open the door
and rushed in. The room was empty--not a trace of a cat or dog
anywhere--and the sounds ceased! On my return home Delia met me in the
garden. 'Jack!' she said, 'I have probed the mystery at last. The house
is haunted! We must leave.'

"_Saturday, November 12th._--Sublet house to James Barstow, retired oil
merchant, to-day. He comes in on the 30th. Hope he'll like it!

"_Tuesday, November 15th._--Cook left to-day. 'I've no fault to find
with you, mum,' she condescendingly explained to Delia. 'It's not you,
nor the children, nor the food. It's the noises at night--screeches
outside my door, which sound like a cat, but which I know can't be a
cat, as there is no cat in the house. This morning, mum, shortly after
the clock struck two, things came to a climax. Hearing something in the
corner and wondering if it was a mouse--I ain't a bit afraid of mice,
mum--I sat up in bed and was getting ready to strike a light--the
matchbox was in my hand--when something heavy sprang right on the top of
me and gave a loud growl in my ear. That finished me, mum--I fainted.
When I came to myself, I was too frightened to stir, but lay with my
head under the blankets till it was time to get up. I then searched
everywhere, but there was no sign of any dog, and as the door was locked
there was no possibility of any dog having got in during the night. Mum,