“The ghost! the ghost!”
He took the poor boy in his arms, held him fast, and comforted him. When he was a little soothed,
“Oh, Harry!” he said, lightly, “you’ve been dreaming. Where’s the ghost?”
“In the Ghost’s Walk,” cried Harry, almost shrieking anew with terror.
“How do you know it is there?”
“I saw it from my window.—I couldn’t sleep. I got up and looked out—I don’t know why—and I saw it! I saw it!”
The words were followed by a long cry of terror.
“Come and show it to me,” said Hugh, wanting to make light of it.
“No, no, Mr. Sutherland—please not. I couldn’t go back into that room.”
“Very well, dear Harry; you shan’t go back. You shall sleep with me, to-night.”