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Men； Women and Ghosts
stumbled up the stairs in a surprisingly agile manner； For the wind through
the keyhole kept saying； 〃Spruggins！ Spruggins！〃 behind him。 The
fire in his bedroom burned brightly。 The room with its crimson bed and
window curtains Was as red and glowing as a carbuncle。 It was still and
warm。 There was no wind here； for the windows were fastened； And no
moon； For the curtains were drawn。 The candle flame stood up like a
pointed pear In a wide brass dish。 Mr。 Spruggins sighed with content； He
was safe at home。 The fire glowed red and yellow roses In the black
basket of the grate And the bed with its crimson hangings Seemed a
great peony； Wide open and placid。 Mr。 Spruggins slipped off his top…coat
and his muffler。 He slipped off his bottle…green coat And his flowered
waistcoat。 He put on a flannel dressing…gown； And tied a peaked night…cap
under his chin。 He wound his large gold watch And placed it under his
pillow。 Then he tiptoed over to the window and pulled back the curtain。
There was the moon dodging in and out of the clouds； But behind him was
his quiet candle。 There was the wind whisking along the street。 The
window rattled； but it was fastened。 Did the wind say； 〃Spruggins〃？ All Mr。
Spruggins heard was 〃S…s…s…s…s 〃 Dying away down the street。 He
dropped the curtain and got into bed。 Martha had been in the last thing
with the warming…pan； The bed was warm； And Mr。 Spruggins sank into
feathers； With the familiar ticking of his watch just under his head。 Mr。
Spruggins dozed。 He had forgotten to put out the candle； But it did not
make much difference as the fire was so bright 。 。 。 Too bright！ The red and
yellow roses pricked his eyelids； They scorched him back to
consciousness。 He tried to shift his position； He could not move。
Something weighed him down； He could not breathe。 He was gasping；
Pinned down and suffocating。 He opened his eyes。 The curtains of the
window were flung back； The fire and the candle were out； And the room
was filled with green moonlight。 And pressed against the window…pane
Was a wide； round face； Winking winking Solemnly dropping one
eyelid after the other。 Tick tock went the watch under his pillow； Wink
wink went the face at the window。 It was not the fire roses which had
pricked him； It was the winking eyes。 Mr。 Spruggins tried to bounce up；
He could not； because His heart flapped up into his mouth And fell back
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Men； Women and Ghosts
dead。 On his chest was a fat pink pig； On the pig a blackamoor With a ten
pound weight for a cap。 His mustachios kept curling up and down like
angry snakes； And his eyes rolled round and round； With the pupils
coming into sight； and disappearing； And appearing again on the other side。
The holsters at his saddle…bow were two port bottles； And a curved table…
knife hung at his belt for a scimitar； While a fork and a keg of spirits were
strapped to the saddle behind。 He dug his spurs into the pig； Which
trampled and snorted； And stamped its cloven feet deeper into Mr。
Spruggins。 Then the green light on the floor began to undulate。 It heaved
and hollowed； It rose like a tide； Sea…green； Full of claws and scales And
wriggles。 The air above his bed began to move； It weighed over him In a
mass of draggled feathers。 Not one lifted to stir the air。 They drooped and
dripped With a smell of port wine and brandy； Closing down； slowly；
Trickling drops on the bed…quilt。 Suddenly the window fell in with a great
scatter of glass； And the moon burst into the room； Sizzling 〃S…s…s…s…s
Spruggins！ Spruggins！〃 It rolled toward him； A green ball of flame； With
two eyes in the center； A red eye and a yellow eye； Dropping their lids
slowly； One after the other。 Mr。 Spruggins tried to scream； But the
blackamoor Leapt off his pig With a cry； Drew his scimitar； And plunged it
into Mr。 Spruggins's mouth。
Mr。 Spruggins got up in the cold dawn And remade the fire。 Then he
crept back to bed By the light which seeped in under the window curtains；
And lay there； shivering； While the bells of St。 George the Martyr chimed
the quarter after seven。
The Paper Windmill
The little boy pressed his face against the window…pane and looked out
at the bright sunshiny morning。 The cobble…stones of the square
glistened like mica。 In the trees； a breeze danced and pranced； and shook
drops of sunlight like falling golden coins into the brown water of the
canal。 Down stream slowly drifted a long string of galliots piled with
crimson cheeses。 The little boy thought they looked as if they were roc's
eggs； blocks of big ruby eggs。 He said； 〃Oh！〃 with delight； and pressed
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Men； Women and Ghosts
against the window with all his might。
The golden cock on the top of the ‘Stadhuis' gleamed。 His beak was
open like a pair of scissors and a narrow piece of blue sky was wedged in
it。 〃Cock…a…doodle…do；〃 cried the little boy。 〃Can't you hear me through
the window； Gold Cocky？ Cock…a…doodle…do！ You should crow when
you see the eggs of your cousin； the great roc。〃 But the golden cock
stood stock still； with his fine tail blowing in the wind。 He could not
understand the little boy； for he said 〃Cocorico〃 when he said anything。
But he was hung in the air to swing； not to sing。 His eyes glittered to the
bright West wind； and the crimson cheeses drifted away down the canal。
It was very dull there in the big room。 Outside in the square； the
wind was playing tag with some fallen leaves。 A man passed； with a
dogcart beside him full of smart； new milkcans。 They rattled out a gay
tune： 〃Tiddity…tum…ti…ti。 Have some milk for your tea。 Cream for your
coffee to drink to…night； thick； and smoo