Cal."
"I will not be in to-night, Mike," exclaimed Duff Salter a little while afterward. "You can have all the evening to yourself. Where do you spend your spare time?"
"On Traity Island," replied Mike with a grin. "I doesn't like Kinsington afther dark. They say it has ghosts, sur."
"But only the ghosts of they killed as they crossed from Treaty Island."
"Sure enough! But I've lost belafe in ghosts since they have become so common. Everybody belaves in thim in Kinsington, and I prefer to be exclusive and sciptical, yer honor."
"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you believed in spirits going and coming and hoping and waiting, and it gave you great comfort?"
"Did I, sur? I forgit it inthirely. It must have been a bad day for my vartigo."
Duff Salter looked at his man long and earnestly, and from head to foot, and the inspection appeared to please him.
"Mike," he said, in his loud, deafish voice, "I am going to cure you of your vertigo."
"Whin, dear Mister Salter."