'I said if Auntie May will come too,' corrected Amerye. And so, to help Amerye to keep the promise by which she had got Kitty to beg Rosamond's pardon (Kitty wasn't allowed near the hen-house because of something she once had done--I could never find out what), Auntie May had to say 'yes,' and off we all went to the hen-house, although poor Auntie May had only bead slippers on, while Amerye had goloshes. I had no shoes, but Auntie May took me across her shoulder. I did not mind going so long as I was not taken up to those awfully rude rabbits, and I suspected they were somewhere that way; people generally keep all their children's nuisances in one place. But we did not after all go near them, and all I saw was nice hens, and one duck with a beak exactly the colour of Amerye's hair. All his family had been eaten, but somehow he had got left out so long that they hadn't the heart to kill him. [Illustration: AUNTIE MAY TOOK ME ACROSS HER SHOULDER.] I was glad they didn't put me down among the animals. I didn't fancy that broad bill of the duck's fumbling at me. Next day at luncheon Kitty scored off Miss Grueber again. Kitty adores chocolate pudding, and when it is there she gallops through her first helping of rice so as to be ready for chocolate. Miss Grueber, who knew this, said, 'Kiddy, you are done your rice double-quick time. I see you come. _Now_ what you want?' And Kitty said very politely, 'Some _more_ rice pudding, if you please.' That night I was back in the drawing-room again, on Beatrice's knee, and they all talked of ghosts. I was surprised to hear that Mrs. Gilmour had seen several north-country ghosts. In fact she knew them very well, and said there was no need to be afraid of them, for they never touched you. Auntie May made her quite angry by telling her that her cat Petronilla saw ghosts. 'Last year,' said Auntie May, 'I took her to Littlecote, the famous Elizabethan mansion that is haunted by Wild Darrell. We had Queen Elizabeth's room, with a stone carved mantelpiece that seemed to overhang the whole room. Pet slept on my bed on the side farthest away from the door. About the middle of the night--I was not exactly sleeping very well myself--I felt her stirring, and I lit a candle, for there is of course no electric light in such a very old house. Petronilla was sitting up in her place, staring out at something near the door. Her great green eyes were round and dilated. She sat staring fixedly in the same direction for quite five minutes--' 'Are you quite sure as to the number of minutes?' asked Mrs. Gilmour, sarcastically. 'I could not help staring too, though I saw nothing but my white dressing-gown hanging on the door. Poor Pet saw more than that, I am sure. At last she sighed and took her eyes slowly off, and lay down again and never stirred. I knew by that that the ghost was no longer visible.'