Calvin's sallow complexion reddened a very little as he laughed flippantly, and stroked his dry side-whiskers and took the tablets again:
"I want you to see the ghost's walk," he wrote. "Come along!"
Passing the sick father's door, Calvin led Duff Salter up to the garret floor, where a room with rag carpet, dumb-bells, boxing-gloves, theological books, and some pictures far from modest, disclosed the varied tastes of an entailed pulpit's expectant. Calvin drew down the curtain of the one window and lighted a lamp. There was a table in the middle of the floor, and there the two men conducted a silent conversation on the ivory tablets.
"This is my room," wrote Calvin. "I stay here all day when I study or enjoy myself. The governor doesn't come in here to give me any advice or nose around."
"Is Mrs. Knox Van de Lear serious as to religious matters?"
"Very," wrote Calvin, sententiously, and looked at Duff Salter with the most open countenance he had ever been seen to show. Duff merely asked another question:
"Has she a good handwriting? I want to have a small document very neatly written."
Calvin went over to a trunk, unlocked it, and took out a bundle of what appeared to be lady's letters, and selecting one, folded the address back and showed the chirography.
"Jericho! Jerry-cho! cho! O cho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "The most admirable writing I have ever seen."