"Nothing of the sort," said Ada; "it was a white hedgehog."
"A white hedgehog!" exclaimed both the Norburys, in tones of disconcerted
astonishment.
"A huge white hedgehog with baleful yellow eyes," said Ada; "I was lying
half asleep in bed when suddenly I felt a sensation as of something
sinister and unaccountable passing through the room. I sat up and looked
round, and there, under the window, I saw an evil, creeping thing, a sort
of monstrous hedgehog, of a dirty white colour, with black, loathsome
claws that clicked and scraped along the floor, and narrow, yellow eyes
of indescribable evil. It slithered along for a yard or two, always
looking at me with its cruel, hideous eyes, then, when it reached the
second window, which was open it clambered up the sill and vanished. I
got up at once and went to the window; there wasn't a sign of it
anywhere. Of course, I knew it must be something from another world, but
it was not till I turned up Popple's chapter on local traditions that I
realised what I had seen."
She turned eagerly to the large brown volume and read: "'Nicholas
Herison, an old miser, was hung at Batchford in 1763 for the murder of a
farm lad who had accidentally discovered his secret hoard.
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