"Talking of snoring," said Mrs. Overtheway, "reminds me of something that happened in my youth, and it is true, though, do you know, it is a ghost story." Ida danced in her chair. "That is just what I should like!" she exclaimed. "Nurse has a ghost story, belonging to a farm-house, which she tells the housemaid, but she says she can't tell me till I am older, and I should so like to hear a ghost story, if it isn't too horrid." "This ghost story isn't too horrid, I think," laughed the little old lady, "and if you will let me think a few minutes, and then forgive my prosy way of telling it, you shall have it at once." There was a pause. The little old lady sat silent, and so sat Ida also, with her eyes intently fixed on Mrs. Overtheway's face, over which an occasional smile was passing. "It's about a ghost who snored," said the little old lady, doubtfully. "Delicious!" responded Ida. The two friends settled themselves comfortably, and in some such words as these was told the following story:-- THE SNORING GHOST. _Clown._ Madman, thou errest: I say there is no darkness but Ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.... What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? _Malvolio._ That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. _Clown._ What thinkest thou of his opinion? _Malvolio_. I think nobly of the soul, and in no way approve his opinion. _Twelfth Night_, iv. 2. "I remember," said Mrs. Overtheway, "I remember my first visit. That is, I remember the occasion when I and my sister Fatima did, for the first time in our lives, go out visiting without our mother, or any grown-up person to take care of us." "Do you remember your mother?" asked Ida. "Quite well, my dear, I am thankful to say. The best and kindest of mothers!" "Was your father alive, too?" Ida asked, with a sigh. The old lady paused, pitying the anxious little face opposite, but Ida went on eagerly: "Please tell me what _he_ was like."