Australian Tales - Setis

down stairs and see if all is safe, though I think I put that lamp out all
right.”
“Think! that's just like you: you ought to be sure about such a
dangerous thing as fire. You are the most careless man I ever saw,
Lemonpip; you have no more gumption than a donkey.”
“Where are the matches, my dear?” asked Mr. Lemonpip, who had got
out of bed, and knocked his toe against the towel horse.
“Matches! You don't want a light to see if the house is on fire, surely!
if you do, it will be all the same, for we haven't a single match in the
house: I forgot to send Jemima for a box before she went to bed. You had
better get into bed again, and don't be pottering about there in the dark. I
think the fire has gone out, for I can't smell it now.”
But Mr. Lemonpip thought as he was out of bed, he might as well
assure himself that the house was quite safe; (for he was not certain that
he had put out the lamp; though he could not recollect that he had ever
failed to do so one single night since he first owned a lamp,) so he began
to descend the stairs, while his wicked little wife lay still, and further
plotted against his peace. She knew that on his return to bed he would be
as wide awake as an owl, and she resolved to tell him a considerable bit
of her mind before he slumbered again, by way of easing off a heavy
load of ill humour, and at the same time punishing her spouse for being
happy out of her society.
Thump, thump, thump, went Mr. Lemonpip's heavy heels on the
carpetted stairs, until he got to the bottom; when lo! on a sudden, the
house was filled with the most horrible sounds that ever distracted
human ears.
“Waa! Wa-er! Wounds! Woes!” shrieked a terrific unknown tongue, in
the hall (at least so Mrs. Lemonpip interpreted the awful yells, which
nearly drove her frantic,) followed immediately by a frightful cry from
Mr. Lemonpip, who felt himself in the clutches of some evil spirit, which
was clawing his flesh with demoniacal fury. Almost at the same moment
a crash, like the downfall of a brewer's chimney, filled the whole house,
from the coal cellar upwards, with an uproar and clatter alarming in the
extreme. A few low moans followed, then all was silent as an empty
church.
Mrs. Lemonpip sprang out of bed in a moment, though she was rather
stout, — and ardently did she wish for a box of those matches, which she
had abused the poor Lancashire man for offering to sell her that very
morning. She was afraid to go below, lest the evil spirit, or whatever it
was, should catch her too; so she rushed to the head of the stairs, and
cried Lemonpip, in her most authoritative tone; but the only reply was a
rasping guttural sound, which made her flesh creep, and her teeth chatter
with terror. She rang the bell for Jemima, but she might as well have rang
it for Jemima's mother, who lived at Coogee, for the girl was stone deaf