"Mid have been black for aught I know, 'twere afore sunrise; but it mid have been a dark blue, and I think 'twas. There were a grete wash up at the house that marnin', and I were coming to help. A sight of cherry-trees grow all about the door, and as I came round the corner there it stood with its hand on the latch, and its eyes very serious."
"What did it look like?"
"It looked like Mr. Cuthbert Martimer, and it stared at I, and then I saw it were Mr. Melcombe."
"Were you near it?"
"Ay, sir."
"Well, what next?"
"I dropped a curtsey."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Valentine, turning cold. "What, curtsey to a ghost, a spirit?"
"Ay, I did, and passed on, and that very instant I turned, and it were gone."
Valentine's voice faltered as he asked the next question. "You were not frightened?"