And then, as he could not run away, he dropped dog and crutch, fell flat upon his face and roared for mercy.

Sybil and her little dog both tried to soothe and reassure him—Sybil by repeating to him over and over again that she was alive and well, and that there was nothing whatever to fear at that moment; and little Nelly, by running around him and trying to poke her nose under his face to find a place to kiss or to lick.

But Joe for a time was perfectly inaccessible to reason; and Sybil, in discouragement, left him to recover himself alone, while she went and sat down at some distance to wait the issue of the event.

After a little while Joe slowly lifted up his head, and cautiously glanced around, whispering:

"Is she gone?"

"No," answered Sybil, sharply; "I am not gone! I am sitting here waiting for you to come to your senses!"

Joe, who after the first glimpse had not dared to look upon the ghost, now ventured from this safe distance to steal a glance. The glance grew into a gaze, and then he spoke:

"Miss Sybil—"

"Well, Joe?"

"Is it you?"