. I half expected to hear him apologise, but naturally nothing
of the sort happened; she was only too obviously a phantom, and, in
accordance with the nature of a phantom, she passed right through him.
A few yards farther on, she came to an abrupt pause, and then, with a
slight inclination of her head as if meaning me to follow, she glided
into a chemist's shop. She was certainly not more than six feet ahead
of me when she passed through the door, and I was even nearer than
that to her when she suddenly disappeared as she stood before the
counter. I asked the chemist if he could tell me anything about the
lady who had just entered his shop, but he merely turned away and
laughed.

"Lady!" he said; "what are you talking about? You're a bit out of your
reckoning. This isn't the first of April. Come, what do you want?"

I bought a bottle of formamints, and reluctantly and regretfully
turned away. That night I dreamed I again saw the ghost. I followed
her up George Street just as I had done in reality; but when she came
to the chemist's shop, she turned swiftly round. "I'm Jane!" she said
in a hollow voice. "Jane! Only Jane!" and with that name ringing in my
ears I awoke.

Some days elapsed before I was in George Street again. The weather had
in the meanwhile undergone one of those sudden and violent changes, so
characteristic of the Scottish climate. The lock-gates of heaven had
been opened and the rain was descending in cataracts. The few
pedestrians I encountered were enveloped in mackintoshes, and carried
huge umbrellas, through which the rain was soaking, and pouring off
from every point. Everything was wet--everywhere was mud. The water,
splashing upwards, saturated the tops of my boots and converted my
trousers into sodden sacks. Some weather isn't fit for dogs, but this
weather wasn't good enough for tadpoles--even fish would have kicked
at it and kept in their holes. Imagine, then, the anomaly! Amidst all
this aqueous inferno, this slippery-sloppery, filth-bespattering
inferno, a spotlessly clean apparition in blue without either
waterproof or umbrella. I refer to Jane. She suddenly appeared, as I
was passing The Ladies' Tea Association Rooms, walking in front of me.
She looked just the same as when I last saw her--spick and span,
and--dry. I repeat the word--dry--for that is what attracted my
attention most. Despite the deluge, not a single raindrop touched
her--the plumes on her toque were splendidly erect and