“Otto,” whispered my wife, hurrying up, “you must come and be introduced to the people who are kindly letting us dance here.”
“Not unless they are of decent birth,” I said firmly.
“Whether they are or not you must come,” said she. “The lady who is playing is——”
“I know, I know, she is a ghost,” said I, unable to forbear smiling at my own jest; and I think my hearers will agree that a man who can make fun of himself may certainly be said to be at least fairly equipped with a sense of humour.
Edelgard stared. “She is the pastor’s wife,” she said. “It is her party. It is so kind of her to let us in. You must come and be introduced.”
“She is a ghost,” I persisted, greatly diverted by the notion, for I felt a reaction of cheerfulness, and never was a lady more substantial than the one with the violin; “she is a ghost, and a highly unattractive specimen of the sect. Dear wife, only ghosts should be introduced to other ghosts. I am flesh and blood, and will therefore go instead and release the little Eckthum from the flesh and blood persistencies of Jellaby.”
“But Otto, you must come,” said Edelgard, laying her hand on my arm as I prepared to move in the direction of the charming victim; “you can’t be rude. She is your hostess——”
“She is my ghostess,” said I, very divertingly I thought; so divertingly that I was seized by a barely controllable desire to indulge in open mirth.
Edelgard, however, with the blank incomprehension of the droll so often to be observed in women, did not so much as smile.
“Otto,” said she, “you absolutely must——”