"'Save yer honor's presence, she's off to glory, an' as dead as a herrin,' replied the voice.
"'Really!' said the lieutenant, 'and where is Phil Doolan?'
"'Och, yer honor? he's gone to get some potheen for the wake.'
"'Well,' said the lieutenant, 'I should like to take a share in waking the defunct—what's her name?'
"'Kathleen, yer honor.'
"'Well, just let us in to take a last look at the worthy creature.'
"The door then creaked on its rusty hinges, and we entered. Not a soul, however, was to be seen anywhere, save and except the old woman herself. The coffin containing the remains of Kathleen, resting on two stools, stood in the middle of the floor, with a plate of salt as usual on the lid. I fairly thought I had been done, and looked upon myself as the laughing stock of the entire fleet."
"So far," remarked Jack, "your story has been all right, but the last episode was rather negligently handled."
"How?" inquired Willis.
"Why, you did not make enough of the coffin scene; your description is too meagre. You should have said, that the wind blew without in fierce gusts, the weathercocks screeched on the roofs, and caused you to dread that the ghost of the defunct was coming down the chimney; large flakes of snow were rushing through the half-open door; a solitary rushlight dimly lit up the chamber, and cast frightful shadows upon the wall."