What would have been the consequence of the intense fright the poor lad experienced is more than any one can say, if at that moment the church clock had not begun to strike nine. The familiar sound, close in his ears, roused him from the first shock, and before it had ceased he contrived to make a desperate rally of his courage, flew over the road, and crossed the two fields that now lay between him and home without looking behind him. CHAPTER III. "It was to her a real _grief of heart_, acute, as children's sorrows often are. "We beheld this from the opposite windows--and, seen thus from a little distance, how many of our own and of other people's sorrows might not seem equally trivial, and equally deserving of ridicule!" HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. When Bill got home he found the household busy with a much more practical subject than that of ghosts and haunted yew-trees. Bessy was ill. She had felt a pain in her side all the day, which towards night had become so violent that the doctor was sent for, who had pronounced it pleurisy, and had sent her to bed. He was just coming down-stairs as Bill burst into the house. The mother was too much occupied about her daughter to notice the lad's condition; but the doctor's sharp eyes saw that something was amiss, and he at once inquired what it was. Bill hammered and stammered, and stopped short. The doctor was such a tall, stout, comfortable-looking man, he looked as if he couldn't believe in ghosts. A slight frown however had come over his comfortable face, and he laid two fingers on Bill's wrist as he repeated his question. "Please sir," said Bill, "I've seen--" "A mad dog?" suggested the doctor. "No, sir." "A mad bull?" "No, sir," said Bill, desperately, "I've seen a ghost." The doctor exploded into a fit of laughter, and looked more comfortable than ever. "And _where_ did we see the ghost?" he inquired in a professional voice, as he took up his coat-tails and warmed himself at the fire. "In Yew-lane, sir; and I'm sure I did see it," said Bill, half crying; "it was all in white, and beckoned me." "That's to say, you saw a white gravestone, or a tree in the moonlight, or one of your classmates dressed up in a table-cloth. It was all moonshine, depend upon it," said the doctor, with a chuckle at his own joke; "take my advice, my boy, and don't give way to foolish fancies." At this point the mother spoke-- "If his father knew, sir, as he'd got any such fads in his head, he'd soon flog 'em out of him." "His father is a very good one," said the doctor; "a little too fond of the stick, perhaps. There," he added good-naturedly, slipping sixpence into Bill's hand, "get a new knife, my boy, and cut a good thick stick, and the next ghost you meet, lay hold of him and let him taste it." Bill tried to thank him, but somehow his voice was choked, and the doctor turned to his mother.