"I see," said Philippa, "that you have plates hung on the walls. I don't like them: it is no longer in good form. If they be worth anything you must have a cabinet with glass doors for the china. How about the carpets?" "There is the drawing-room," said Benjamin. "No, we won't go in there and disturb the ghosts," said Philippa. "We'll take the drawing-room for granted." "Well--come with me to the dining-room. We can reach it by another door." In the room they now entered the carpet was in fairly good condition, except at the head and bottom of the table, where it was worn. This was especially the case at the bottom, where Mr. Woolfield had usually sat. There, when his wife had lectured, moralised, and harangued, he had rubbed his feet up and down and had fretted the nap off the Brussels carpet. "I think," remarked Philippa, "that we can turn it about, and by taking out one width and putting that under the bookcase and inserting the strip that was there in its room, we can save the expense of a new carpet. But--the engravings--those Landseers. What do you think of them, Ben, dear?" She pointed to the two familiar engravings of the "Deer in Winter," and "Dignity and Impudence." "Don't you think, Ben, that one has got a little tired of those pictures?" "My late wife did not object to them, they were so perfectly harmless." "But your coming wife does. We will have something more up-to-date in their room. By the way, I wonder how the ghosts are getting on. They have let us alone so far. I will run back and have a peep at them through the curtains." The lively girl left the dining apartment, and her husband-elect, studying the pictures to which Philippa had objected. Presently she returned. "Oh, Ben! such fun!" she said, laughing. "My ghost has drawn up his chair close to that of the late Mrs. Woolfield, and is fondling her hand. But I believe that they are only talking goody-goody." [Illustration: "I BELIEVE THAT THEY ARE TALKING GOODY-GOODY."] "And now about the china," said Mr. Woolfield. "It is in a closet near the pantry--that is to say, the best china. I will get a benzoline lamp, and we will examine it. We had it out only when Mrs. Woolfield had a party of her elect brothers and sisters. I fear a good deal is broken. I know that the soup tureen has lost a lid, and I believe we are short of vegetable dishes. How many plates remain I do not know. We had a parlourmaid, Dorcas, who was a sad smasher, but as she was one who had made her election sure, my late wife would not part with her." "And how are you off for glass?" "The wine-glasses are fairly complete. I fancy the cut-glass decanters are in a bad way. My late wife chipped them, I really believe out of spite." It took the couple some time to go through the china and the glass. "And the plate?" asked Philippa. "Oh, that is right. All the real old silver is at the bank, as Kesiah preferred plated goods." "How about the kitchen utensils?"