If only there were a few friendly stars to be seen ! The darkness was so thick it seemed to press against his face . There was a sound as of stealthy passing footsteps all over the graveyard . Carl shivered , partly with prickling terror , partly with real cold . Then it began to rain -- a chill , penetrating drizzle . Carl 's thin little cotton blouse and shirt were soon wet through . He felt chilled to the bone . He forgot mental terrors in his physical discomfort . But he must stay there till twelve -- he was punishing himself and he was on his honour . Nothing had been said about rain -- but it did not make any difference . When the study clock finally struck twelve a drenched little figure crept stiffly down off Mr. Pollock 's tombstone , made its way into the manse and upstairs to bed . Carl 's teeth were chattering . He thought he would never get warm again . He was warm enough when morning came . Jerry gave one startled look at his crimson face and then rushed to call his father . Mr. Meredith came hurriedly , his own face ivory white from the pallor of his long night vigil by a death bed . He had not got home until daylight . He bent over his little lad anxiously . `` Carl , are you sick ? '' he said .
`` That -- tombstone -- XXXXX here , '' said Carl , `` it 's -- moving -- about -- it 's coming -- at -- me -- keep it -- away -- please . ''
If about at into of off over through till to