Wah-na-gi laughed in spite of herself as he bustled and herded her out of the room, she having agreed to the conditions imposed. When he had the room to himself, Mike went up to the bundle he had left on the table. These placards, rudely lettered, he began to tack up about the room. They ran along somewhat after this fashion:
"Merri (ha, ha!) Crismas."
Like some eminent literary artists, Mike was long on words and short on spelling.
"Resterant And Food-factery."
Food being mostly absent from its accustomed place, was naturally very much in the minds of the humorists, whose efforts at gayety made up in breadth what they lacked in subtlety.
Another sign announced: "Blew monge—Has Just Blew In!" Another: "Egg-nog, without the egg or the Nog." "Plum (?) Pudin' (?)." "Mince Pi Like Step-Father uster Make." Under the caption "Our Motter" appeared this effort at scripture: "O Lord, Open Thou Our Lips And Our Mouths Shal Sho Fourth Thi Prais a Whole Lot if We Git the Chanct."
The materials or the humor seemed to give out at this juncture.
Mike was in the act of tacking up the last extravagant effort to the shelf over the fireplace when a voice behind said softly: "Gee, it's good to be home."
The hammer and the placard both dropped out of the Irishman's hand.
"Ghosts, is it?" he whispered, fixed, with his eyes wide open; "or the banshee?"