Ouija board contraptions.
I'se skeered of hoodoos. I's done gone, I is."

"Is that all you've got to complain about?" Lavinia inquired.

"Yes, ma'am."

"All right, then. Go back to the kitchen. You can use the board for
kindling wood."

"Who? Me touch dat t'ing? No, ma'am, not dis nigger!"

"I'll be the coon to burn it," I shouted. "I'll be glad to burn it."

Gladolia's heavy steps moved off kitchenward.

Then my Lavinia turned waspishly to me again. "John, there's not a bit
of use trying to deceive me. What is it you are trying to conceal from
me?"

"Who? Me? Oh, no," I lied elaborately, looking around to see if that
dratted ghost was concealed enough. She was so big, and I'm rather a
smallish man. But that was a bad move on my part.

"John," Lavinia demanded like a ward boss, "you are hiding some_body_ in
here! Who is it?"

I only waved denial and gurgled in my throat. She went on, "It's bad
enough to have you flirt over the Ouija board with that hussy----"

"Oh, the affair was quite above-board, I assure you, my love!" I cried,
leaping lithely about to keep her from focusing her gaze behind me.

She thrust me back with sudden muscle. "_I will_ see who's behind you!
Where is that Helen?"

"Me? I'm Helen," came from the ghost.

Lavinia looked at that apparition, that owl-eyed phantom, in plaid skirt
and stiff shirtwaist, with hair skewed back and no powder on her nose. I
threw a protecting husbandly arm about her to catch her when she should
faint. But she didn't swoon. A broad, satisfied smile spread over her
face.

"I thought you were Helen of Troy," she murmured.

"I used to be Helen of Troy, New York," said the ghost. "And now I'll be
moving along, if you'll excuse me. See you later."

With that she telescoped briskly, till we saw only a hand waving
farewell.

My Lavinia fell forgivingly into my arms. I kissed her once or twice
fervently, and then I shoved her aside, for I felt a sudden strong
desire to write. The sheets of paper on my desk spread invitingly before
me.

"I've got the bulliest plot for a ghost story!" I cried.

THE LADY AND THE GHOST

BY ROSE CECIL O'NEILL

From the _Cosmopolitan Magazine_. By permission of John Brisben Walker
and Rose O'Neill.

The Lady and the Ghost

BY ROSE CECIL O'NEILL

It was some moments before the Lady became rationally convinced that
there was something occurring in the corner of the room, and then the
actual nature of the th