"Oh, never mind," rejoined Toppleton, graciously. "Only don't do it again. Let's have the tale now."
"Very well," said the spirit. "If you will kindly shove me further back into the chair, and arrange my overskirt for me, I'll begin—that's another uncomfortable thing about my situation at present. It's somewhat trying to a spirit of masculine habits to find himself arrayed in a shape wearing the habiliments of the other sex."
Hopkins did as he was requested, and, throwing himself down on his lounge, lit his pipe, and announced himself as ready to listen.
"I think I'd like a pipe myself," said the Sallie. "I've got a fine place for one, I see."
"How can you talk if you stop your mouth up with a pipe?" asked Hopkins.
"Through my nose," replied the spirit. "Or there are holes in the ears, I can talk through them quite as well."
"Well, I guess not," returned Hopkins. "I have had enough of your weird vocal exercises to-day without having you talk with your ears, but if you'll smoke with one or both of them, you're welcome to do it."
"Very well," replied the spirit. "I fancy you're right, and inasmuch as I haven't had a pipe for thirty years, I'll let you fill up two for me, and I'll try 'em both."
Accordingly Hopkins filled two of the clay pipes, three dozen of which had come with the Aunt Sallie, and lighting them for the spirit, placed them in the ears of his vis-à-vis as requested.
"Ah," said the spirit as he began to puff, "this is what I call comfort." And then he began his story.