“Carriers,” said Bizzybuzz. “The owls are the chief carriers,—steeds,—conveyances,—what you like,—for the Make Believe People. Of course some sprites use bats or smaller birds, and the very little elves have a liking for moths. But most of us Make-Believers prefer the owls. They are the biggest and strongest and most steady, and then they are very patient, and so wise!” “I’d like to talk to our owl,” said Bab. “He looks kind.” “Oh, he is,” said Bizzybuzz, “and wise. Dear, dear! How very wise he is, to be sure!” The owls talked little, but looked volumes. They sat around in rows, staring unblinkingly with their great shining eyes. Every minute a new one would flap heavily into the cave, settle down, and begin to stare like the others. “Did I ever tell any of you how I lost my tail-feathers?” asked the Owl Innkeeper, at last, in a sad deep voice. “_All_ of us!” said the owls, in a chorus. “No, no!” cried Bab, eagerly, “not all! _We_ haven’t heard it.” “Then listen,” said the Owl Innkeeper, solemnly. “For it is my best story, though very painful to me.” He settled himself down in the centre of the cave, and blinked three times, by way of a preface. “It is about ghosts,” he began. “Ghosts!” repeated Bab, with a laugh. “Ghosts!” exclaimed Meg, scornfully. “Did you ever see a ghost?” asked Dick. “Did I ever see a ghost?” said the Owl Innkeeper. “My eyes and feathers! Yes! Hundreds, thousands of them. That is one of the very easiest things we owls do. We can see all sorts of things that you can’t, because we can see in the dark. Cats do the same, and bats. And the dark is always full of ghosts. If _you_ could see in the dark, you would see ghosts too!” “Yes,—because _if_ we could see in the dark, we’d be owls or cats or bats ourselves!” laughed Meg. “The owls,” explained their feathered friend, solemnly, “have no sense of humor, so that is lost on me.” “Oh, go on, please!” urged Bab, who was really anxious to hear the ghost-story. “Well,” proceeded the owl, “I once lived in a yew-tree near an old house,—oh, a very old house! It was peopled only by ghosts, and a horrid lot they were,—ill natured and even quite savage sometimes. And they were so strong, through living so many hundreds of years undisturbed, that they were really almost quite solid, like real people. “Well, one day the old place was bought by a young man, who laughed when they told him that it was haunted. _I_ didn’t laugh. I felt quite worried, for I like young people (when they don’t make too much noise in the daytime), and I did not know what those horrid ghosts would do to that poor lad. So, the night he moved in, _I_ moved in too; that is, I sat on the window-sill, where I could see everything that went on inside.