“You had better take care, sir, and not arouse the sleeping lion. Don't turn the tiger loose in me. I am afraid to say of what I am capable when I am aroused fully.” “Don't rouse the sleeping lion” “Oh, don't be afraid to tell us, for nobody else is afraid, but I advise you to go and take a nap, and if in that sweet slumber you even dream that you can thrash me I shall know it, and I will give you one that will last you a thousand years. I owe you one for dying anyhow, or I should never have married your widow. She led me a dog's life, and I just feel like taking it out of you.” By this time all the ghosts were tired of a quarrel promising so little real fight, and they sauntered off in different directions while the young man, left alone, walked along toward the Egyptian. As he walked along he heard two women talking and as the princess happened to be the subject of their conversation he sauntered more slowly so that he could hear what they were saying. The smaller one of the two said: “I don't see where her wonderful preservation comes in, for she is nothing but a mummy anyhow. Anybody could be as stiff as she is if she had been soaked in coal tar a year or so. And they dry them so that they are nothing but a piece of tinder, and I am surprised that Mr. Huntington should think her remarkable. I am sure she cannot show a curl of real hair as soft and silky as it was when she was alive, like someone that I know of.” This caused the young man to notice the speaker more particularly, and he saw that while she was small, there was still something about her that made him think she had been a beauty in her lifetime, for the shape and the outlines of her head and skeleton were certainly different from those of most of the others. There was something of elegance in her movements and more grace than one could mentally connect with a skeleton. She held her head very much to one side and reminded him of the girls he had read about in the old romances, “bending over her tambour frame, with her eyes cast down modestly while her lovely eyes were suffused with tears of sensibility.” On one side of the head which was turned to the newspaper man there was a long curl of silky brown hair. This she twisted constantly with her bony fingers and smoothed with apparent affection, a sentiment which the young man understood when, by an unfortunate movement she half turned her head and he saw that there was not another spear of hair on her whole skull. Between a desire to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of her pretension, and pity for the little feminine vanity that made her cling to her one poor lone curl, the young man retired into the shadows made by the decorations, and that is how he happened to hear the conversation of several lady ghosts.