was open. A clock was striking. ``Mercy!
that can't be eleven now,'' she cried. ``But it
must be--it was ten before I came up-stairs.''
She got to her feet hurriedly.

Aunt Hannah put out a restraining hand.

``No, no, dear, that's half-past ten.''

``But it struck eleven.''

``Yes, I know. It does--at half-past ten.''

``Why, the little wretch,'' laughed Billy,
dropping back into her chair and picking up her work
again. ``The idea of its telling fibs like that and
frightening people half out of their lives! I'll
have it fixed right away. Maybe John can do it
--he's always so handy about such things.''

``But I don't want it fixed,'' demurred Aunt
Hannah.

Billy stared a little.

``You don't want it fixed! Maybe you like
to have it strike eleven when it's half-past ten!''
Billy's voice was merrily sarcastic.

``Y-yes, I do,'' stammered the lady,