They talk about them every night when the wind blows hard and makes queer noises in the chimney.

Sometimes they are afraid to put out their candles for fear some evil spirit might be in the room." "I'm glad he is afraid of something, the mean old thing!" exclaimed Joyce.

For a few moments nothing more was said, but Jules felt comforted now that he had unburdened his long pent up little heart.

He reached out for several blades of grass and began idly twisting them around his finger.
Joyce sat with her hands clasped over her knees, and a wicked little gleam in her eyes that boded mischief.

Presently she giggled as if some amusing thought had occurred to her, and when Jules looked up inquiringly she began noiselessly clapping her hands together.
"I've thought of the best thing," she said.