It took Robert some little while to collect his scattered thoughts sufficiently to be able to state the business that brought him there. Had it not been for a glass of wine which a sympathetic parlourmaid brought him, and held for him while he drank, he might not even then have remembered the note in his pocket, and the vicar's explicit instructions that he was to hand it to Miss Annersley himself. His insistent demand to see the young lady confirmed the cook in her opinion of him; but the sympathetic parlourmaid undertook to acquaint Miss Annersley with the news of his presence and his wish to see her, and finally Robert was conducted to a room which was known as the library, where Peggy, a shining white figure against the dusky background of book-lined walls, received him, with manifest wonder in her grey eyes--a wonder which changed by imperceptible degrees to amusement as, having received and read her note, she listened to Robert's eloquent tale of the misty sort of thing which had risen out of the ground at his feet, had almost knocked him over, and had then vanished into the ground again. "And you weren't afraid?" said Peggy, her hand resting on the writing-table beside which she stood, her admiring gaze on Robert's ashen face. "But that's splendid. I wish I were as brave as you. If I had been nearly knocked down by a misty sort of thing I should never be able to pass the spot again. Yet you'll go back presently, and won't mind in the least. That's real courage." Robert looked uncomfortable. He wished she had not reminded him of the return journey. He felt far from happy when he thought of it; far from confident that he dared pass the spot again. He had it in his mind to invite the sympathetic parlourmaid to accompany him. "Are you quite sure it was a ghost?" Peggy asked suddenly. "I don't see how a misty sort of thing could knock anyone down. Wasn't it, perhaps, a dog?" Robert felt offended, and showed it. "I reckon I knows a dog when I sees one," he replied with dignity, "an' I reckon I knows a ghost. Hannah always allows she seen the ghost in the elm avenue, and it was in the avenue as I seed it. Big, it was--big as a elephant, and misty like. There was two of 'em." "Two?" said Peggy, with a questioning intonation. "That's strange, Robert, because there are supposed to be two ghosts--a lady and a dog. Are you quite sure there wasn't a dog, after all?" "There mid 'a' been a dog," Robert conceded reluctantly. "But it warn't like a human dog, nohow. Its eyes was like flames, an' it didn' seem to 'ave any legs, seemed to move wi'out touching of the ground. Why not come an' see for yourself?" he suggested cunningly, "if you don't believe me. I'll take care of 'ee."