She was quite light-hearted over it!
After that the clock went on and killed every friend and relation we
had, and then it started on the neighbors.
It struck thirteen all day long for months, until we were sick of
slaughter, and there could not have been a human being left alive for
miles around.
Then it turned over a new leaf, and gave up murdering folks, and took
to striking mere harmless thirty-nines and forty-ones. Its favorite
number now is thirty-two, but once a day it strikes forty-nine. It
never strikes more than forty-nine. I don't know why--I have never
been able to understand why--but it doesn't.
It does not strike at regular intervals, but when it feels it wants to
and would be better for it. Sometimes it strikes three or four times
within the same hour, and at other times it will go for half-a-day
without striking at all.
He is an odd old fellow!
I have thought now and then of having him "seen to," and made to keep
regular hours and be respectable; but, somehow, I seem to have grown
to love him as he is with his daring mockery of Time.
He certainly has not much respect for it. He seems to go out of his
way almost to openly insult it.
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