"That she is, miss; and when she applied for a room, I would have said we were full up, but in those days we had several of our best rooms empty, and, strange as she was, her clothes were so good, and the luggage on the four-wheeler waiting outside was so promising, as you might say, that it did seem a pity to send away two guineas a week because Providence had given it a scarecrow face. So I showed her the best back room on the top floor----" "Next to mine," cut in Joan. "If you will have it so, miss; and there she’s been for the last six weeks, not having paid a penny since the end of the first month." "What is the ghost’s name and age?" the girl went on with her catechism. "Her name, if one was to take her word, which I’m far from being certain of, is Mrs. Gone; and as for her age, miss, she might be almost anywhere between fifty and a hundred." "What a clever old lady!" laughed the girl. "Well, we can’t turn the poor wretch away while she’s ill, if she is ill, can we? I know too well what it is to be alone in the world and down on your luck, to be hard on anybody else, especially a woman. We must give Mrs. Gone the benefit of the doubt for a little while. But your description has quite interested me; I should like to see this ghost who doesn’t walk." "The house is the same as yours, miss," said Miss Witt. "You have the right to go into her room at any time, more particularly as she hasn’t paid for it." "Perhaps I’ll carry up her dinner this evening, by way of an excuse," returned Joan--"if you think she could bear the shock of seeing a strange face." Upon this, Miss Witt, who adored the girl, protested that, in her opinion, the sight of such a face could only be a pleasure to any person and in any circumstances. Joan laughed at the compliment, but she did not forget her intention. Mrs. Gone’s meals were usually taken up a few minutes before the gong summoned the guests to the dining-room, because it was easier to spare a servant then than later, and it was just after the dressing-bell had rung that the girl knocked at the "ghost’s" door. Joan was surprised to find her heart quickening its beats as she waited for a bidding to "Come in!" One would think that a sight of this old woman who would not pay her board was an exciting event! She smiled at herself, but the smile faded as she threw open the door in answer to a faint murmur on the other side. Miss Witt’s sketch of Mrs. Gone had not been an exaggeration. There she lay on a sofa by the window, her face gleaming white in the twilight; and it was a wonderful face. A shiver went creeping up and down Joan’s spine, as a flame leaped out from the shadowy hollows of two sunken eyes to hers.