Hereupon the ghost itself was “a goodish bit dumfoonder’d” too; however, the last act of the drama was accomplished as usual, for instantly a pale blue flash surrounded the figure, which sank, at once among the briars and brambles that grew in unchecked profusion on that uncanny ground. “Cum oop! Balaam,” said the daring knight of the slashing-knife, and that unflinching steed, worthy to rank henceforth with Rosinante, Bucephalus, the war-horse of the Roman Curtius, and other equine heroes, trotted under the broken arch! Adam’s observant eye had noticed that as the figure sank the brambles bent and waved to and fro, as if set in motion by some living thing. He was not greatly learned in ghost lore, still he had the idea that a real, genuine ghost, with no nonsense about it, ought to have gone through the briars with no more commotion than the moonbeams made. “That’ll deea for te-neet, Balaam,” said Adam; “t’ ghaust’s run te ’arth like a fox, an’ we mun dig ’im oot.” Balaam obeyed the bridle, turned his steps homeward, and in a few minutes the anxiety of Judy was allayed by the appearance of her good man, all safe and sound. “Adam!” said she, “Wherivver hae yo’ been, te be so late?” “Why, me an’ Balaam’s been te see t’ boggle!” “What, Sister Agatha’s ghost?” said Judy, who was not by any means a sceptic with regard to spirits from the vasty deep in general, and this one in particular. “Sister Agatha’s gran’mother,” said Adam, contemptuously. “It’s my opinion ’at it isn’t a sister at all, but a brother, an’ a precious rascal at that, wiv ’is white smock, an’ ’is bloody breest, an’ ’is blue bleeazes. If he dizn’t mind, he’ll get mair o’ them last sooat o’ things then he’ll care for; bud we’ll dig ’im oot.”