"What on earth is the matter now?" said Atherley, rising and making for the door. He opened it just in time for us to see Mrs. Mallet go by--Mrs. Mallet bathed in tears and weeping as I never have heard an adult weep before or since--in a manner which is graphically and literally described by the phrase "roaring and crying." "Why, Mrs. Mallet! What on earth is the matter?" "Send for Mrs. de Noël," cried Mrs. Mallet in tones necessarily raised to a high and piercing key by the sobs with which they were accompanied. "Send for Mrs. de Noël; send for that dear lady, and she will tell you whether a word has been said against my character till I come here, which I never wish to do, being frightened pretty nigh to death with what one told me and the other; and if you don't believe me, ask Mrs. Stubbs as keeps the little sweet-shop near the church, if any one in the village will so much as come up the avenue after dark; and says to me, the very day I come here, 'You have a nerve,' she says; 'I wouldn't sleep there if you was to pay me,' she says; and I says, not wishing to speak against a family that was cousin to Mrs. de Noël, 'Noises is neither here nor there,' I says, 'and ghostisses keeps mostly to the gentry's wing,' I says. And then to say as I put about that they was all over the house, and frighten the London lady's maid, which all I said was--and Hann can tell you that I speak the truth, for she was there--'some says one thing,' says I, 'and some says another, but I takes no notice of nothink.' But put up with a deal, I have--more than ever I told a soul since I come here, which I promised Mrs. de Noël when she asked me to oblige her; which the blue lights I have seen a many times, and tapping of coffin-nails on the wall, and never close my eyes for nights sometimes, but am entirely wore away, and my nerve that weak; and then to be so hurt in my feelings, and spoke to as I am not accustomed, but always treated everywhere I goes with the greatest of kindness and respect, which ask Mrs. de Noël she will tell you, since ever I was a widow; but pack my things I will, and walk every step of the way, if it was pouring cats and dogs, I would, rather than stay another minute here to be so put upon; and send for Mrs. de Noël if you don't believe me, and she will tell you the many high families she recommended me, and always give satisfaction. Send for Mrs. de Noël--" The swing door closed behind her, and the sounds of her grief and her reiterated appeals to Mrs. de Noël died slowly away in the distance. "What on earth have you been saying to her?" said Atherley to his wife, who had come out into the hall. "Only that she behaved very badly indeed in speaking about the ghost to Mrs. Molyneux's maid, who, of course, repeated it all directly and made Lucinda nervous. She is a most troublesome, mischievous old woman." "But she can cook. Pray what are we to do for dinner?"