My visitor laughed heartily.
"Oh, if that's all," she said, most amiably, "we can arrange matters in a jiffy. Your wife possesses a hooded mackintosh, does she not? I think I saw something of the kind hanging on the hat-rack as I floated in. I will wear that if it will make you feel any easier."
"It certainly would," said I; "but see here—can't you scare up some other cavalier to escort you to the haven of your desires?"
She fixed a sternly steady eye upon me for a moment.
"Aren't you the man who wrote the lines,
The World's a green and gladsome ball,
And Love's the Ruler of it all,
And Life's the chance vouchsafed to me
For Deeds and Gifts of Sympathy?
Didn't you write that?" she demanded.
"I did, madam," said I, "and I meant every word of it, but what of it? Is that any reason why I should be seen on a public highway with a lady-ghost of your especial kind?"
"Enough of your objections," she retorted firmly. "You are the person for whom I have been sent. We have a case needing your immediate attention. The only question is, will you come pleasantly and of your own free will, or must I resort to extreme measures?"
These words were spoken with such determination that I realized that further resistance was useless, and I yielded.