Celia's gentle mind recoiled from the idea that the dead might rise in answer to a human summons. The stoically restrained grief for his departed friend must have touched her husband somewhat in the head.
On the fifth night Chauncey observed, "That Old Shep's ghost must be getting tuckered out."
Celia decided that there was a limit to indulgence.
"Chauncey," she ordered firmly, "you mustn't come down here any more. You'll be taking pneumonia."
He accepted the order without protest.
"Maybe that," he commented to the frankly puzzled Mrs. Old Chauncey, "will teach the old grasshopper when to take a man seriously."