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Page 32
"I couldn't have -- talked this way -- to you, Billy, even if I'd heard
people -- lyin' 'bout you. But jus' soon's I can s-stand up -- I'll break
your neck -- don' f'get it."
I did feel a little ashamed then. But it was to save Tom. In the
morning, when I explained it, we would have a good laugh over it together.
In about twenty minutes Tom dropped into a sound, easy slumber. I felt
his pulse, listened to his respiration, and let him sleep. Everything was
normal, and Tom was safe. I went into the other room and tumbled into bed.
I found Tom up and dressed when I awoke the next morning. He was entirely
himself again with the exception of shaky nerves and a tongue like a
white-oak chip.
"What an idiot I was," he said, thoughtfully. "I remember thinking that
quinine bottle looked queer while I was taking the dose. Have much
trouble in bringing me 'round?"
I told him no. His memory seemed bad about the entire affair. I
concluded that he had no recollection of my efforts to keep him awake, and
decided not to enlighten him. Some other time, I thought, when he was
feeling better, we would have some fun over it.
When Tom was ready to go he stopped, with the door open, and shook my hand.
"Much obliged, old fellow," he said, quietly, "for taking so much trouble
with me -- and for what you said. I'm going down now to telegraph to the
little girl."
X A GHOST OF A CHANCE
"Actually, a hod!" repeated Mrs. Kinsolving, pathetically.
Mrs. Bellamy Bellmore arched a sympathetic eyebrow. Thus she expressed
condolence and a generous amount of apparent surprise.
"Fancy her telling everywhere," recapitulated Mrs. Kinsolving, "that she
saw a ghost in the apartment she occupied here -- our choicest guest-room
-- a ghost, carrying a hod on its shoulder -- the ghost of an old man in
overalls, smoking a pipe and carrying a hod! The very absurdity of the
thing shows her malicious intent. There never was a Kinsolving that
carried a hod. Every one knows that Mr. Kinsolving's father accumulated
his money by large building contracts, but he never worked a day with his
own hands. He had this house built from his own plans; but -- oh, a hod!
Why need she have been so cruel and malicious?"
"It is really too bad," murmured Mrs. Bellmore, with an approving glance
of her fine eyes about the vast chamber done in lilac and old gold. "And
it was in this room she saw it! Oh, no, I'm not afraid of ghosts. Don't
have the least fear on my account. I'm glad you put me in here. I think
family ghosts so interesting! But, really, the story does sound a little
inconsistent. I should have expected something better from Mrs.
Fischer-Suympkins. Don't they carry bricks in hods? Why should a ghost
bring bricks into a villa built of marble and stone? I'm so sorry, but it
makes me think that age is beginning to tell upon Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins."
"This house," continued Mrs. Kinsolving, "was built upon the site of an
old one used by the family during the Revolution. There wouldn't be
anything strange in its having a ghost. And there was a Captain
Kinsolving who fought in General Greene's army, though we've never been
able to secure any papers to vouch for it. If there is to be a family
ghost, why couldn't it have been his, instead of a bricklayer's?"
"The ghost of a Revolutionary ancestor wouldn't be a bad idea," agreed
Mrs. Bellmore; "but you know how arbitrary and inconsiderate ghosts can
be. Maybe, like love, they are 'engendered in the eye.' One advantage of
those who see ghosts is that their stories can't be disproved. By a
spiteful eye, a Revolutionary knapsack might easily be construed to be a
hod. Dear Mrs. Kinsolving, think no more of it. I am sure it was a
knapsack."
"But she told everybody!" mourned Mrs. Kinsolving, inconsolable. "She
insisted upon the details. There is the pipe. And how are you going to
get out of the overalls?"
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