"Go on; oh, do go on!" cried Dolf.
Could the pair have seen the face leaning over the balcony, straining to catch every word, they might almost have thought that one of the ghosts they so dreaded had started up before them.
"I came in sight ob de cypress tree," recommenced Clo, working up her story to a climax with great art.
"Yes, yes," said Dolf again. "In sight ob de tree——"
"I seed somethin' all in white a couchin' down dar, a throwin' up its arms and moaning like. I jis' give one yell and danced away. When I got to de house, what do you tink? dar was missus. Whar she come from I don't know, and she give me goose again for screaming; but la! she was white as a dead woman all de while."
"What could it all a ben?"
"I don't know more'n you. The next morning she sent for me, and she telled me she'd hev to send me away ef I didn't quit dat habit of bein' up so late and skeerin' de gals wid stories 'bout ghosts; so I jis' held my tongue."
"And had you ebber seed anytink more?"
"Laws, I wouldn't go near dat tree after dark for all de money on Long Island! I tells you dar's sometin' queer somewhar."
"So dar is," assented Dolf, in a perplexed manner, "dar is, sure."