“Rubbish!” said John with all the strong contempt of a practical man for the supernatural. “So I say, so I say.” “But I wish, for all that, no one would hint any sich a thing to the women and girls. It might trouble them. ‘Sich is life.’” “No-no-no-no! But even if such a rumor should reach their ears it need not alarm them. It is only the old manor-house that the fools say is full of ghosts, ghosts, ghosts! Not the wing, not the wing!” While the two men talked together they perceived the slow approach of some figure through the trees, which soon revealed itself to be old ’Sias, the gatekeeper. “Well, well, old man, what do you want? What do you want?” demanded the agent, ill-pleased at the intrusion. “Nothing werry particular, marster; only to pay my dispects to yer, sar, and I no more knowin’ as you was here till dat boy Seth told me! I nebber was more s’prised in my life, no, not since I was a boy, and dat wa’n’t yes’day, marster! Dat must a been a hundred and fifty year ago, more or less!” “Humph-humph-humph! To hear _you_ talk, old man, one would think you might remember Noah’s flood,” said the agent. “Well, no, marster, not quite: but _I_ s’pects my grand-daddy did; ’caze I has heerd him ’scribe it, when he was a little boy,” gravely replied the old man. “Yes-yes-yes. I see! Mendacity comes to you quite legitimately, handed down from father to son,” said the agent. “Yes, sar, so it do indeed, marster, sar, and few colored fam’lies is as much favored in dat ’spect as ours,” said old ’Sias so innocently that the agent looked half ashamed of himself. To change the subjects, as well as to utilize the old man, Mr. Carmichael said: “Well, now that you are here, ’Sias, do me the favor to walk down to the stable and tell Seth to saddle Saladin for me, and bring him around here.” “Yes, marster, wid de greatest pleasure in life,” said ’Sias, moving off. “And here-here-here! Come back here! Here’s a dollar for a present to buy tobacco pipes with,” added Carmichael, thrusting the broad silver coin in his hand. “Thanky, marster, a thousand times, and I hab the hoss round here for yer in no time. T’anks be to goodness, Sereny don’t know nuffin’ ’tall ’bout my habbin’ ob _dis_ money! Ain’t me and her been in de way ob getting presents to-day? She a sky-blue scarf, and me dis here dollar! But, dere! I ain’t a gwine to let Sereny know nuffin’ ’tall ’bout dis here dollar. ’Cause if I did—hush, honey!—she’d dance a war-dance ’round me, and scalp de top o’ my head off but what she’d hab every blessed cent ob it,” muttered the old man to himself as he carefully stowed away his prize in the lowest recesses of his trowsers’ pocket and hurried away down a little foot-path leading through the thicket in the direction of the stables.