"No, mam!"
"O cruel, to fright one so!"
"But hope an' expect to observe same to-night towards the hour o' midnight or thereabouts and if so, shall immediately try what cold steel can do agin it."
"Gracious goodness, Sergeant, what d'you mean?"
"I mean as I'm a-going to find out what it is as walks o' nights."
"But ghosts don't walk, they glide."
"Maybe so, mam, but this ghost or apparation ain't a glider 'tis a walker, same being observed to leave footmarks. Also Roger Bent the second gardener as lives nigh the old mill has seen it twice—says same haunts the old mill o' moony nights, says—but there's Roger now, he shall tell you!" The Sergeant whistled, beckoned and the second gardener, a young-old, shock-headed man, approached, knuckling his forehead to Mrs. Agatha.
"Roger," said the Sergeant, "tell us what ye saw last night."
"A gobling!" said Roger, "a grimly gobling an' that's what."
"Bless us!" exclaimed Mrs. Agatha, "what was it like?"