There was such a sly look in the starboard eye of the old fellow as he spoke, that I laughed outright, and asked, sociably—
"Has she ever seen the ghosts of the cottage? I think I have rather a knack that way, and I'd like to know what to expect."
"No, her sort is the rapping kind. Down yonder, the only ghost I take much stock in is old Bezee Tucker's. Some folks say they've heard him groaning there nights, and a dripping sound; he bled to death, you know.
"It was kept quiet at the time, and is forgotten now by all but a few old fellows like me. Bezee was always polite to the ladies, so I guess he won't bother you, ma'am;" and the old fellow laughed.
"If he does, I'll let you know;" and with that I left him, for I was called and told that the beach party was anxious for my company.
In the delights of that happy hour, I
forgot the warning of the old gentleman on the hill, for I was about to taste a clam for the first time in my life, and it was a most absorbing moment.
Perched about on the rocks like hungry birds, we sat and watched the happy cooks with breathless interest, as they struggled with frying-pans, fish that refused to brown, steaming sea-weed, and hot ashes.
Little Margie Grant waited upon me so prettily, that I should have been tempted to try a sea porcupine if she had offered it, so charming was her way of saying, "O here's a perfectly lovely one! Do take him by his little black head and eat him quick!"
I indulged without thought, in clams, served hot between two shells, little dreaming what a price I was to pay for that banquet.