"Tell her, Bob," I said; and then, at the idea of all her fond hopes being once more dashed to the ground, I fairly held my sides, while Bob gazed at me in wonder. I did not explain to him the cause of my hilarity; I had no time, indeed, for my wife re-entered the room, and resumed her seat and her needlework. I composed my features the moment I heard her footstep; she would certainly have asked why I was so merry, and any explanation I might have ventured to offer would have been twisted by her to my shame and confusion, and would, moreover, have made her more determined than ever to take the house. "Where did we leave off, Mr. Millet?" she said, in a suspicious tone. "Let me see--I think it was about the house falling into decay." "Never mind that just now, Maria," I said. "Bob has something of the utmost importance to impart to you. Brace your nerves--prepare for a shock." There was a note of triumph in my voice, and she turned her eyes upon me, with an idea, I think, that I was going out of my mind. "Well, Mr. Millet," she said, with a shrewd glance at him, "what is this something of the highest importance that you have to impart to me?" "I was reluctant to mention it," said Bob, "before I spoke of it to Ned, because I was doubtful how it would affect you. If you should happen to hear of it when it was too late to retract you might say with very good reason, 'But why did not Mr. Millet tell us before we went over the house? Why did he leave us to find it out for ourselves after we signed the lease?'" "Find what out, Mr. Millet?" "As a matter of fact," said Bob, and quickly withdrew the unfortunate phrase, "I mean that I have heard the house has a bad name." She frowned. "A bad name!" "Bad, in a certain way, They say it is haunted." "Oh," said my wife, smiling, "is that all? They say? Who say?" "I can't give you names," replied Bob, conspicuously nonplused, "because I don't know them. I can only tell you what I have heard." "I thought as much," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Merely hearsay. You might be more explicit, Mr. Millet. Haunted? By what?" "I don't know." "When does _It_ appear?" "I can't say." "How tantalizing! Don't you think, Edward, that the news Mr. Millet has given us makes the house all the more interesting?" Thus effectually did she sweep away all my fond expectations. She made no more of a haunted house than she would have done of a loose handle to a door. "If that is the view you take of it," I said, "perhaps it does. I am always ready to please you, Maria, but till this moment I had no idea that your taste lay in the direction of haunted houses. At all events, you will not be able to say that you were not warned." "You will not hear me say it. There is a proverb about giving a dog a bad name and hanging him at once, and it seems to me to apply to the house in Lamb's Terrace. If Mr. Millet could give us something to lay hold of I might express myself differently."