"My dear," said his wife, "it would have frightened me to death to go into that room and see that head on a cushion on a table—"
"Like John the Baptist," interrupted Euphemia.
"Well," said our ex-boarder, "the plan would have had its advantages."
"Oh!" cried Euphemia, looking out of a back window. "What a lovely little iron balcony! Do you sit out there on warm evenings?"
"That's a fire-escape," said the ex-boarder. "We don't go out there unless it is very hot indeed, on account of the house being on fire. You see, there is a little door in the floor of the balcony and an iron ladder leading to the balcony beneath, and so on, down to the first storey."
"And you have to creep through that hole and go down that dreadful steep ladder every time there is a fire?" said Euphemia.
"Well, I guess we would never go down but once," he answered.
"No, indeed," said Euphemia; "you fall down and break your neck the first time," and she turned away from the window with a very grave expression on her face.
Soon after this our hostess conducted Euphemia to the guest-chamber, while her husband and I finished a bed-time cigar.
When I joined Euphemia in her room, she met me with a mysterious expression on her face. She shut the door, and then said in a very earnest tone:
"Do you see that httle bedstead in the corner? I did not notice it until I came in just now, and then, being quite astonished, I said: 'Why, here's a child's bed; who sleeps here?' 'Oh,' says she, 'that's our little Adèle's bedstead. We have it in
61
