"And is this cottage yours?"
"Yes—that is, it stands on the Sefton estates, I believe, but nobody hereabouts would seem anxious to dispute my right of occupying the place."
"Why not?"
"Because it is generally supposed to be haunted."
"Oh!"
"It was built by some wanderer of the roads," I explained, "a stranger to these parts, who lived alone here, and eventually died alone here."
"Died here?"
"Hanged himself on the staple above the door, yonder."
"Oh!" said she again, and cast a fearful glance towards the deep-driven, rusty staple.
"The country folk believe his spirit still haunts the place," I went on, "and seldom, or never, venture foot within the Hollow."