"Why," answered Roger, ruffling his shock of hair with a claw-like right hand, "'twere rayther like a phamtom, mam—very much so, that's what!"
"O—where was it?"
"'Twas a-quaking i' the ruin o' the owd mill, mam, dithering and dathering glowersome like."
Mrs. Agatha gasped, noting which, Roger shook his head gloomily. "Always know'd th' owd mill was haunted but never seed nowt afore. I do 'ope as my hens aren't witched from laying, that's what."
"And then you followed it, Roger?"
"Aye, I did so, Sergeant, me 'aving a dried hare's-foot 'ung round my neck d'ye see which same do be a powerful charm, give me by old Betty the witch, a spell as no gobling nor speckiter can abide."
"And where did it go?"
"Along by the spinney, Sergeant, then along the back lane and I see it vanish it-self through th' orchard wall and that's what!"
"And there was its footmarks in the earth this morning, mam, sure enough. All right, Roger."
Hereupon Roger knuckled again to Mrs. Agatha and betook himself back to his duties.