"She stayed here last night, and went off by rail this morning to her grandmother's at Worcester," replied Miss Timmens. "Mother will be glad of her for a day or so, for she keeps her bed still." "Then who is in the cottage?" "Nobody, sir. It's locked up. Roe is expected back to-morrow." Miss Timmens began to set her tea-things, and I left them. Whom should I come upon in the road, but Tod--who had been over to South Crabb. I told him all this; and we took the broad path home through the fields, which led us past Willow Cottage. The fun Tod made of what the women had been saying, was beyond everything. A dreary dwelling, it looked; cold, and deserted, and solitary in the dusky night, on which the moon was rising. The back looked towards Crabb Ravine and the three-cornered grove in which Daniel Ferrar had taken his own life away; and to the barn where Maria had seen Ferrar after death. In front was the large field, bleak and bare; and beyond, the scattered chimneys of North Crabb. A lively dwelling altogether!--let alone what had happened in it to David Garth. I said so. "Yes, it is a lively spot!" acquiesced Tod. "Beautifully lively in itself, without having the reputation of being haunted. Eugh! Let's get home to dinner, Johnny." Mr. and Mrs. Coney and Tom came in after dinner. Old Coney and the Squire smoked till tea-time. When tea was over we all sat down to Pope Joan. Mr. Coney kept mistaking hearts for diamonds, clubs for spades; he had not his spectacles, and I offered to fetch them. Upon that, he set upon Tom for being lazy and letting Johnny Ludlow do what it was his place to do. The result was, that Tom Coney and I had a race which should reach the farm first. The night was bright, the moon high. Coming back with the spectacles, a man encountered us, tearing along as fast as we were. And that was like mad. "Halloa!" cried Tom. "What's up." Tom had cause to ask it. The man was Luke Macintosh: and never in all my life had I seen a specimen of such terror. His face was white, his breath came in gasps. Without saying with your leave or by your leave, he caught hold of Tom Coney's arm. "Master, as I be a living sinner, I ha' just seen Davy Garth." "Seen David Garth?" echoed Tom, wondering whether Luke had been drinking. "I see him as plain as plain. He be at that end window o' the Willow Cottage." "Do you mean his ghost, or himself?" asked Tom, making game of it. "Why, his ghost, in course, sir. It's well known hisself be dead and buried--worse luck! Mercy on us!--I'd ha' lost a month's wages rather nor see this."