"Specious, but granted," returned Parley. "And now, Mr. Spook, let's exchange cards."
"I left my card-case at home," laughed the spirit. "But I'll tell you who I am and it will suffice. I'm old Billie Watkins, of the class of ninety-nine."
"There is no Watkins in ninety-nine," said Parley, suspiciously.
"Well, there was," retorted the spirit. "I ought to know, because I was old Billie myself. Valedictorian, too."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Parley. "Ninety-nine hasn't graduated yet!"
"Yes, it has," returned the ghost. "Seventeen ninety-nine, I mean."
Parley whistled. "Oh, I see! You're a relic of the last century!"
"That's it; and I can tell you, Parley, we eighteenth-century boys made Blue Haven a very different sort of a place from what you make it," said Billie. "We didn't mind being young, you know. When we had an eight-oared race, we rowed only four men, and each man managed two oars. And there wasn't any fighting over strokes, either; and we'd row anybody that chose to try us. The main principle was to have a race, and the only thing we thought about was getting in first."
"In any old way, I suppose?" sneered Parley.
"You bet!" cried the spirit, with enthusiasm. "We'd have put our eight-oared crew up against twenty Indians in a canoe, if they'd asked us; and when it came to rounders, we could bat balls a mile in those days. A fellow didn't have to make a science out of his fun when I was at Blue Haven."