I leaped from my chair with unaccustomed agility and sprang in front of my wife. I must conceal that awful phantom from her, at any risk!
She did not look at me, or—thank heaven!—behind me, but fixed her injured gaze upon the waste-basket, as if to wrest dark secrets from it.
“I have come to tell you that I am leaving,” she staccatoed.
“Oh, yes, yes!” I agreed, flapping my arms about to attract attention from the corner. “That's fine—great!”
“So you want me to go, do you?” she demanded.
“Sure, yes—right away! Change of air will do you good. I'll join you presently!” If only she would go till Helen could de-part! I'd have the devil of a time explaining afterward, of course, but anything would be better than to have Lavinia see a ghost. Why, that sensitive little woman couldn't bear to have a mouse say boo at her—and what would she say to a ghost in her own living-room?
Lavinia cast a cold eye upon me. “You are acting very queerly,” she sniffed. “You are concealing something from me.”
Just then the door opened and Gladolia called, “Mis' Hallock! Mis' Hallock! I've come to tell you I'se done lef' dis place.”
My wife turned her head a moment. “But why, Gladolia?”
“I ain't stayin' round no place 'long wid dem Ouija board contraptions. I'se skeered of hoodoos. I's done gone, I is.”