And Parley did so. He raised the banger aloft, and brought it down on the spot where the invisible creature was sitting with all the force at his command.
"There," said the ghost, calmly, from the chair. "Are you satisfied? It didn't do me any damage; though I must say you've knocked the embroidery into smithereens."
It was even as he said. The force with which Parley had brought the heavy stick down had made a great rent in the soft cushion, and he had had his trouble for his pains.
"Well, do you believe in me now?" the ghost demanded, Parley, in his surprise and wrath, having found no words suited to the occasion.
"I suppose I've got to," he replied, ruefully gazing upon the ruined cushion. "That's what I get for being an idiot. I don't know—"
"It's what you get for pretending that you can't believe all that you can't see," put in the ghost, "which is a very grave error for a young man—or an old one, either, for that matter—to make."
Parley sat down, and was silent for a moment.
PARLEY CONVERSING WITH THE INVISIBLE GHOST