"The way I happened to go was this, sir. James Hill overtook me coming out of North Crabb: he was going up to Willow Cottage to speak to Roe; and I thought I'd walk with him, instead of taking the road. Not but what he's a beauty to walk with, _he_ is, after his cruelty to his wife's boy," broke off Dinah: "but company is company on a solitary road at night. When we got to the cottage, Hill knocked; I stayed a minute to say how-d'ye-do to Mrs. Roe, for I've not seen her yet. Nobody answered the door; the place looked all dark and empty. 'They must be out for the evening, I should think,' says Hill: and with that he steps back and looks up at the windows. 'Lord be good to us! what's that?' says he, when he had got round where he could see the end casement. I went to him, and found him standing like a pump, just as stiff and upright, his hands clutched hold of one another, and his eyes staring up at the panes in mortal terror. 'What is it?' says I. 'It's Davvy,' says he; but the voice didn't sound like Hill's voice, and it scared me a bit. 'Yes, it's him,' says Hill; 'he have got on the sheet as was wrapped round him to carry him to the shed. I--I lodged him again that there window to make the turning; the stairs was awk'ard,' went on Hill, as if he was speaking again the grain, but couldn't help himself.--And sure enough, Mr. Tom--sure enough, Master Ludlow, there was David." "Nonsense, Dinah!" cried Tom Coney. "I saw him quite well, sir, in the white sheet," said Dinah. "The moon was shining on the window a'most as bright as day." "It were brighter nor day," eagerly put in Luke Macintosh. "You'll believe me now, Mr. Tom." "I'd not believe it if I saw it," said Tom Coney. "As we stood looking up, me laying hold of Hill's arm," resumed Dinah, as if she had not told all her tale, "there came a loud whistling and shouting behind. Which was young Jim Batley, bringing some message from them sisters of his to Harriet Roe. I bade him hush his noise, but he only danced and mocked at me; so then I told him the cottage was empty, except for David Garth. That hushed him. He came stealing up, and stood by me, staring. You should have seen his face change, Mr. Tom." "Was he frightened?" "Frightened is hardly the word for it, sir. His teeth began to chatter, as if he had a fit; and down he went at last like a stone, face first, howling fearful. We couldn't hardly get him up again to come away, me and Hill. And as to the ghost, Mr. Tom, it _was_ still there." "Well, it is a queer tale," acknowledged Tom Coney. "We made for the road, all three of us then, and I turned on here--and I didn't half like coming by the barn where Maria Lease saw Daniel Ferrar," candidly added Dinah. "T'other two went on their opposite way, Jim never letting go of Hill's coat-tails." There was no more Pope Joan that night. We carried the story indoors; and I mentioned also what had been said to Miss Timmens. The Squire and old Coney laughed.