a', jist the same as 'afore! But the
minute that, frichtit at the consequences o' their folly, they
acknowledged the property o' the ghaist in his ain heid, an' tuik it
oot o' the earth an' intil the hoose again, a' was quaiet
direc'ly--quaiet as hert could desire.'

"Sae that was the story!

"An' whan the lunch was ower, an' Mr. Harper was thinkin' the moment
come whan they would order him to tak the heid, an' him trimlin' at the
thoucht o' touchin' 't, an' lay't whaur it was--an' whaur it had sae
aften been whan it had a sowl intil 't, the gentleman got up, an' says
he til him, 'Be so good,' says he, 'as fetch me my hat-box from the
hall.' Harper went an' got it as desired, an' the gentleman took an'
unlockit it, an' roon' he turnt whaur he stood, an' up he tuik the
skull frae the chimley-piece, neither as gien he lo'ed it nor feared
it--as what reason had he to do either?--an' han'let it neither
rouchly, nor wi' ony show o' mickle care, but intil the hat-box it
gaed, willy, nilly, an' the lid shutten doon upo' 't, an' the key turnt
i' the lock o' 't; an' as gien he wad mak the thing richt sure o' no
bein' putten again whaur it had sic an objection to gang, up he tuik in
his han' the hat-box, an' the contrairy heid i' the inside o' 't, an'
awa' wi' him on his traivels, here awa' an' there awa' ower the face o'
the globe: he was on his w'y to Spain, he said, at the moment; an' we
saw nae mair o' him nor the heid, nor h'ard ever a soon' mair o'
clankin', nor girnin', nor ony ither oonholy din.

"An' that's the trowth, mak o' 't what ye like, my leddy an' maister
Grant!"

Mistress Brookes was silent, and for some time not a syllable was
uttered by either listener. At last Donal spoke.

"It is a strange story, mistress Brookes," he said; "and the stranger
that it would show some of the inhabitants of the other world
apparently as silly after a hundred and fifty years as when first they
arrived there."

"I can say naething anent that, sir," answered mistress Brookes; "I'm
no accoontable for ony inference 'at's to be drawn frae my ower true
tale; an' doobtless, sir, ye ken far better nor me;--but whaur ye see
sae mony folk draw oot the threid o' a lang life, an' never ae sensible
thing, that they could help, done or said, what for should ye won'er
gien noo an' than ane i' the ither warl' shaw himsel' siclike. Whan ye
consider the heap o' folk that dees, an' hoo there maun be sae mony
mair i' the ither warl' nor i' t