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“Why were you not at school last time, Willie? couldn’t your mother spare you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then why didn’t you come?” said Master Arthur, in evident astonishment.

Poor Bill! He stammered as he had stammered before the doctor, and finally gasped–

“Please, Sir, I was scared.”

“Scared? What of?”

“Ghosts,” murmured Bill in a very ghostly whisper. Mr. Bartram raised himself a little. Master Arthur seemed confounded.

“Why, you little goose! How is it you never were afraid before?”

“Please, Sir, I saw one the other night.”

Mr. Bartram took another look over the top of his eye-glass and sat bolt upright, and John Gardener stayed his machine and listened, while poor Bill told the whole story of the Yew-lane Ghost.

When it was finished, the gardener, who was behind Master Arthur, said–

“I’ve heard something of this, Sir, in the village,” and then added more which Bill could not hear.

“Eh, what?” said Master Arthur. “Willie, take the machine and drive about the garden a-bit wherever you like. Now, John.”

Willie did not at all like being sent away at this interesting point. Another time he would have enjoyed driving over the short grass, and seeing it jump up like a little green fountain in front of him; but now his whole mind was absorbed by the few words he caught at intervals of the conversation going on between John and the young gentlemen. What could it mean? Mr. Bartram seemed to have awakened to extraordinary energy, and was talking rapidly. Bill heard the words “lime-light” and “large sheet,” and thought they must be planning a magic-lantern exhibition, but was puzzled by catching the word “turnip.” At last, as he was rounding the corner of a bed of geraniums, he distinctly heard Mr. Bartram ask–

“They cut the man’s head off, didn’t they?”

Then they were talking about the ghost, after all! Bill gave the machine a jerk, and to his dismay sliced a branch off one of the geraniums. What was to be done? He must tell Master Arthur, but he could not interrupt him just now; so on he drove, feeling very much dispirited, and by no means cheered by hearing shouts of laughter from the party on the grass. When one is puzzled and out of spirits, it is no consolation to hear other people laughing over a private joke; moreover, Bill felt that if they were still on the subject of the murdered man and his ghost, their merriment was very unsuitable. Whatever was going on, it was quite evident that Mr. Bartram was the leading spirit of it, for Bill could see Master Arthur waving the one legged donkey in an ecstasy, as he clapped his friend on the back till the eye-glass danced upon his nose. At last Mr. Bartram threw himself back as if closing a discussion, and said loud enough for Bill to hear–

“You never heard of a bully who wasn’t a coward.”

Bill thought of Bully Tom, and how he had said he dared not risk the chance of meeting with a ghost, and began to think that this was a clever young gentleman, after all. Just then Master Arthur called to him; and he took the bit of broken geranium and went.

“Oh, Willie!” said Master Arthur, “we’ve been talking over your misfortunes–geranium? fiddle-sticks! put it in your button-hole–your misfortunes, I say, and for to-night at any rate we intend to help you out of them. John–ahem!–will be–ahem!–engaged to-night, and unable to take his class as usual; but this gentleman has kindly consented to fill his place (“Hear, hear,” said the gentleman alluded to), and if you’ll come to-night, like a good lad, he and I will walk back with you; so if you do see the ghost, it will be in good company. But, mind, this is on one condition. You must not say anything about it–about our walking back with you, I mean–to anybody. Say nothing; but get ready and come to school as usual. You understand?”