"Well, now, look here," said Terwilliger, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll pay you your wages if you'll go back to Spookland and mind your own business. Ten pounds isn't much when three-dollar shoes cost fifteen cents a pair and sell like hot waffles. Is it a bargain?"
"H'I was sent off with three months' money owin' me," said the ghost.
"Well, call it thirty pounds, then," replied Terwilliger.
"With hinterest—compound hinterest at six per cent.—for two 'undred and thirty years," said the ghost.
"Phew!" whistled Terwilliger. "Have you any idea how much money that is?"
"Certingly," replied the ghost. "Hit's just 63,609,609 pounds 6 shillings 4-1/2 pence. When h'I gets that, h'I flies; huntil I gets it h'I stys 'ere an' I 'aunts."
"Say," said Terwilliger, "haven't you been chumming with an Italian ghost named Shylock over on the other shore?"
"Shylock!" said the ghost. "No, h'I've never 'eard the naime. Perhaps 'e's stoppin' at the hother place."
"Very likely," said Terwilliger. "He is an eminent saint alongside of you. But I say now, Mrs. Spook, or whatever your name is, this is rubbing it in, to try to collect as much money as that, particularly from me, who wasn't to blame in any way, and on whom you haven't the spook of a claim."
"H'I'm very sorry for you, Mr. Terwilliger," said the ghost. "But my vow must be kept sacrid."