"But she asked us to come," said Jim.

"I can't help that," cried the woman, in a rude voice. "I tell you
that she can't see you."

We stood irresolute for a minute.

"Maybe you would just tell her I am here," said Jim, at last.

"Tell her! How am I to tell her when she couldn't so much as hear a
pistol in her ears? Try and tell her yourself, if you have a mind
to."

She threw open a door as she spoke, and there, in a reclining chair
at the further end of the room, we caught a glimpse of a figure all
lumped together, huge and shapeless, with tails of black hair
hanging down.

The sound of dreadful, swine-like breathing fell upon our ears. It
was but a glance, and then we were off hot-foot for home. As for
me, I was so young that I was not sure whether this was funny or
terrible; but when I looked at Jim to see how he took it, he was
looking quite white and ill.

"You'll not tell any one, Roddy," said he.

"Not unless it's my mother."

"I won't even tell my uncle. I'll say she was ill, the poor lady!