answered, apparently picking up a little
courage, now the subject was fairly entered upon.

A pause ensued. Mr. Verner may have been at a loss what to say next.
When deliberately assured by any timorous spirit that they have "seen a
ghost," it is waste of time to enter an opposing argument.

"Where did you see the ghost?" he asked.

"I had stopped still, listening to the quarrelling, sir. But that soon
came to an end, for I heard no more, and I went on a few steps, and then
I stopped to listen again. Just as I turned my head towards the grove,
where the quarrelling had seemed to be, I saw something a few paces from
me that made my flesh creep. A tall, white thing it looked, whiter than
the moonlight. I knew it could be nothing but a ghost, and my knees sunk
down from under me, and I laid hold o' the trunk o' the tree."

"Perhaps it was a death's head and bones?" cried John Massingbird.

"Maybe, sir," she answered. "That, or something worse. It glided through
the trees with its great eyes staring at me; and I felt ready to die."

"Was it a man's or a woman's ghost?" asked Mr. Bitterworth, a broad
smile upon his face.

"Couldn't have been a woman's, sir; 'twas too tall," was the sobbing
answer. "A great tall thing it looked, like a white shadder. I wonder I
be alive!"

"So do I," irascibly cried Mr. Verner. "Which way was it going? Towards
the village, or in this direction?"

"Not in either of 'em, sir. It glided right off at a angle amid the
trees."

"And it was that--that folly, that put you into the state of tremor in
which Broom found you?" said Mr. Verner. "It was nothing else?"

"I declare, before Heaven, that it was what I saw as put me into the
fright young Broom found me in," she repeated earnestly.

"But if you were so silly as to be alarmed for the moment, why do you
continue to show alarm still?"

"Because my husband says he'll shake me," she whimpered, after a long
pause. "He never has no patience with ghosts."

"Serve you right," was the half-audible comment of Mr. Verner. "Is this
all you know of the affair?" he continued, after a pause.

"It's all, sir," she sobbed. "And enough too. There's only one thing as
I shall be for ever thankful for."

"What's that?" asked Mr. Verner.

"That my poor Luke was away afore this happened. He was fond of
hankering after Rachel, and folks might have been for laying it on his
shoulders; though, goodness knows, he'd not have hurt a hair of her
head."