“You look it,” laughed the owner of the house. “But it’s all foolishness. There’s no such thing as a ghost.”
“W—w—w—w’uts dat yo’ say?” sputtered Ham Mockus, turning the whites of two badly scared eyes in Mr. Tremaine’s direction.
“I say that there is no such thing as a ghost.”
“Yo? say so aftah hearing—dat?”
“Neighbors giving us a grisly serenade,” retorted Tremaine, grinning. “Whatever it is, that noise came from strictly human sources.”
“Wut? Me Gwine ter Dat Kitchen—All Alone?”
“Yassuh! Yassuh!” quavered Ham, as though he wanted to be accommodating, yet pitied the white man’s ignorance.