"'I wonder where they come from,' said a dreamy little boy.
"'I think they grow out of the wall,' answered the little girl; 'for I have been watching them come; first one and then another, and then a whole lot of them. I am sure they grow out of the walls.'
"'Perhaps they have papas and mammas,' said an older boy, with a smile.
"'Yes, yes; and the doctor brings them in his pocket,' said another, a consequential little maiden.
"'No; I'll tell you,' said the older boy: 'they're ghosts.'
"'But ghosts are white.'
"'Oh! but these have got black coming down the chimney.'
"'No,' said a curious-looking, white-faced boy of fourteen, who had been reading by the firelight, and had stopped to hear the little ones talk; 'they're body ghosts; they're not soul ghosts.'
"'A silence followed, broken by the first, the dreamy-eyed boy, who said,—
"'I hope they didn't make me;' at which they all burst out laughing. Just then the nurse brought in their tea, and when she proceeded to light the gas, we vanished."