orrow."

All the same, when morning came, every one skipped, and as the last of
them drove away, the Woman put her hand through the Man's arm, and
smiled as she said: "It's all over. I don't mind a bit. When I heard
you saying last night, 'They don't even trample the driveway, so why
not?' I said to myself, 'Why not?' indeed."

"Good girl," he replied. "I'll bet my top hat you grow to be proud of
them."

I don't know that they ever did, but I do know that they still live
there. I went to school with the son, and whenever any one bragged, he
used to say, "Well, we've _always_ had a ghost. You ain't got that!"

The Youngster threw his lighted cigarette into the air, ran under it,
caught it between his lips, and made a bow, as the Doctor broke into a
roar of laughter.

"I know that old house," he said. "Jamaica Pond. But see here,
Youngster, your idea of ghosts is terribly illogical. It was the _man_
who was killed, not the _horses_. The wrong part of the team walked."

"You _are_ particular," replied the Youngster. "The man did not come
back, and the horses did. I can't split hairs when it's a ghost story.
I feel afraid that I have missed my vocation, and that flights in the
imagination are more in my line than flights in the air. I don't know
what you think. _I_ think it's a mighty good story. I say, Journalist,
do you think I could sell that story? I've never earned a dollar in my
life."

"Well," laughed the Journalist, "a dollar is just about what you would
get for it."

"If I had been doing that story," said the Critic, "I should have
found a logical explanation for it."

"Of course you would," said the Youngster. "I know one of a haunted
house on St. James Street which had an explanation."

But the Doctor cut him short with: "Come now, you've done your stunt.
No more stories to-night. Off to bed. You and I are going to take a
run to Paris to-morrow."

"What for?"

"Tell you to-morrow."

As every one began to move toward the house, the Violinist remarked,
"I was thinking of running up to Paris myself to-morrow. Any one else
want to go with me?" The Journalist said that he did, and the party
broke up. As they strolled toward the house the Lawyer was heard
asking the Youngster, "What were the steps in the corridor?"

"Well," replied the Youngster, "I suppose on the night that the team
came home there must have been great excitement in the house--every
one running to and fro and--"

But the Journalis