“Here comes Professor Hardwick,” exclaimed Milly, “splendid to have him come just now! Sit down, Professor, and get right into the game. You know all these people, except this angel child, Miss Vernie Reid.”
“I am an angel,” declared Vernie, “but I’m no child! I’ve just graduated with honours and diplomas and lots of presents. Now, I’m out in the great world, and glory, but I love it! But don’t mind me, Professor, go right on and tell us all you know about ghosts and ghostesses.”
“Bless my soul! I don’t know anything about them.”
“Well, do you believe in ghosts?”
“What do you mean by ghosts? How do you define a ghost?”
“Ah, there’s the rub,” said Landon. “These people are all talking at cross purposes. Mr. Bruce means a scarecrow phantom rigged up in sheets, Miss Carnforth means a supernatural being of some sort, but I take a ghost, in the proper sense, to mean the visible soul of some one who has died.”
“What do you mean by visible soul? Disembodied?”
“No,” considered Landon, “I suppose I mean clothed in a body,—that is an apparent body.”
“And raiment?” asked the old Professor.
“Yes, certainly. I never heard of a nude spook!”