"I didn't know Poplar Lane was haunted," said Mamie.
"Yes, it is, by a woman in white. She appears quite suddenly standing near our gate. But she hasn't been seen for a long time."
"I thought only old houses had ghosts," ventured Alison. "The Moorings isn't so very old, is it?"
"It's quite old enough to have a ghost. There's a story about it—an awful story! Bella told it to me."
"What is it?"
"I don't know whether I ought to tell it to you."
"Oh, go on!"
"Well, a gentleman used to live here once," began Nita, in tones of delighted importance. "His name was Mr. Morrison. Late one night—it was exactly at midnight—he happened to look out of the window, and he saw a white carriage with a pair of white horses drive up to the door, but it didn't make the least sound of wheels or hoofs. And, do you know, he died afterwards."
"Of course he died afterwards," was heard from Nesta's end of the table. "He couldn't very well die before, could he? Perhaps it was twenty years afterwards."
"I thought you weren't listening. No, it was quite soon afterwards. Wasn't it horrible?"