“Oh! it’s Faust’s fault, is it?” returned Walter crossly. “Faust, come here! Take him to our room, Mr. Spooner, and keep him there till I come; he shall not stay in the drawing-room if he does what I don’t like. Faust, do you hear me, sir?”
“He will never follow me, Sir Walter; it’s no use calling him,” remonstrated Mr. Spooner.
“He will do as I tell him, and so will you too,” returned Walter imperiously, and twisting his handkerchief, he tied it round the dog’s neck, led him to the door, gave the end of the leash thus formed to Mr. Spooner, and then fairly turned the pair of them out of the room. Having accomplished this feat, he strolled listlessly to the fireplace, and amused himself by pulling about the ornaments on the chimney-piece for some minutes. At length a new idea seemed to strike him, and turning to his companion, he said—
“Do you know why I was so angry with Faust just now?”
“Because I was petting him, I suppose, as you don’t seem to like me to do so,” returned Annie.
“Ah! that was not all, though,” rejoined Walter; “I wanted him particularly to have been with me when I was out walking to-day, very particularly.”
“Yes, and why was that?” inquired Annie, who always encouraged him to talk to her, in the hope of overcoming the dislike which he had taken to her, and which, for many reasons, pained her inexpressibly. Walter remained for a minute or two silent, and then coming close to her, he asked in a low whisper—
“Annie, do you believe in ghosts?”
“My dear Walter, what an odd question,” returned Annie in surprise; “why do you ask it?”
Walter glanced carefully round the room, to assure himself that they were alone ere he replied, in the same low, awe-stricken whisper, “Because, if there are such things, I think I’ve seen one.”