Watty!"

"Ma'am to _you_," says my grandfather.

"If you've the common feelings of a gentleman, I'll ask you kindly to
turn your back; I'm going to take off my stocking."

So my grandfather stared the other way very politely; and when he was
told he might look again, he saw she had tied the stocking to the
line and was running it out like a cradle into the dead waste of the
night.

"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! Look out below!"

Before he could answer, plump! a man's leg came tumbling past his ear
and scattered the ashes right and left.

"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! Look out below!"

This time 'twas a great white arm and hand, with a silver ring sunk
tight in the flesh of the little finger.

"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! Warm them limbs!"

My grandfather picked them up and was warming them before the fire,
when down came tumbling a great round head and bounced twice and lay
in the firelight, staring up at him. And whose head was it but
Archelaus Rowett's, that he'd run away from once already, that night?

"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! Look out below!"