the speaker, suiting the action to the word, had
risen from his seat and suddenly pounced upon the unhappy Sparrow, who,
already paralysed with terror, now fairly yelled and howled for mercy.
Fergus dropped him back gently into his chair, and resuming his own
seat, continued--

"There is very little to add. Under the ruins were found the remains of
the master grasping in each hand a large-sized drumstick. Bubbles was
never seen more. It was supposed he escaped without his legs on to the
roof, and they do say that every Christmas Eve he revisits Ferriby, and
tries to get down the chimney in search of his lost legs."

At the conclusion of this tragic story every one drew a long breath.
Jim Sparrow, it was clear, had swallowed it from beginning to end, and
one or two others of the juniors looked as if they would have been more
pleased had the event not been made to happen on Christmas Eve, of all
nights. But with these exceptions the whole thing seemed a very good
joke, and greatly to the credit of Fergus's imagination.

"Oh, and I should say," added that doughty historian, as he poked up the
fire into a blaze, "though it's not of much consequence, that this took
place in this very house, they say in this very room. Funny story,
isn't it, Sparrow?"

Sparrow had not yet sufficiently recovered from his fright to reply, but
it was evident by his looks he considered it anything but funny.
However, the talk soon veered round to other and more ordinary topics,
in the midst of which, aided by the remnants of our feast, the spirits
even of Jim Sparrow revived, so much so that by bedtime he was as
cheerful as if he had never even heard the name of Bubbles.

Sub-Chapter II.

THE GHOST.

Mr Jolliffe appeared on the scene as usual at ten o'clock, and read
prayers. After which, advising us all to get a good night, and
announcing that to-morrow being Christmas Day, we should not breakfast
till nine, he trotted off to his quarters and left us.

We were all pretty ready to take his advice, for what with a sixteen-
mile run across country in the afternoon, and our big dinner in the
evening, the thought of bed seemed rather a comfortable prospect.

One or two of the fellows, however, fellows whom no exertion ever seemed
to weary, protested against going to bed at ten o'clock, and took good
care that those who did shouldn't sleep. We were used to that, and had
to put up with it, and it must have been close upon the stroke o