pletcher sardis

when they answered the bell on that wild winter night, there was no one expected - and no one in sight. then they saw something standing on top of an urn, whose peculiar appearence gave them quite a turn. all at once i leapt down the hall, where i choose to remain with my nose to the wall. i was seemingly deaf to whatever they said, so at last they stopped screaming and went off to bed. i joined them at breakfast and presently ate all the syrup and toast, and part of a plate. i renched off the horn from the new gramophone and can not be persuaded to leave it alone. i betray a great liking for peering up flues, and for peeling the soles of my white canvas shoes. at times i will tear out whole chapters of books, or put roomfuls of pictures askew on their hooks. every sunday i brood and lay on the floor, inconveniently close to the drawing room door. now and then i will vanish for hours from the scene, but alas, be discovered inside a tureen. i am subject to fits of bewildering wrath, during which i shall hide all the towels from the bath. in the night through the house i aimlessly creep, in spite of the fact of my being asleep. i shall carry objects of which i grow fond, and protect them by dropping them into the pond. i came thirty years ago and on this day I have every intention of going astray.