“Yes.”
“By de light ob de ghosts’ eyes!”
“What!”
“By de light ob de ghosts’ eyes, sure as I’m a libbin’ sinner! Dere was a ghost at every window, an’ at some windows dere was two or free, bofe men an’ women ghosts. An’ every one ob deir eyes was a shining like an inward fire an’ lightin’ up all de windows!”
Again the narrator made an awful pause.
Gloria was evidently impressed by his story. Not so David Lindsay, who quietly asked: “Had you taken anything to drink that evening, old man?”
“Who? Me? Don’t ’sult me, young marster; I’m a Son of Tempunce, an’ a brudder in de Bethelum Methody Meetin’,” said the old man, in dignified resentment.
“I beg your pardon, I really do,” replied David Lindsay, with frank courtesy.
“I did gib yer de bes’ wice in my power, not to go nigh dat debbil’s den! But course you’ll do as yer likes. No offence, young marster.”
“Why, you see this lady is fully determined to go on there,” David Lindsay explained.