"You are very good! That I can tell him," said Ida, fervently, "and please let it be about yourself again, if you can remember anything. I like true stories."
"Talking of snoring," said Mrs. Overtheway, "reminds me of something that happened in my youth, and it is true, though, do you know, it is a ghost story."
Ida danced in her chair.
"That is just what I should like!" she exclaimed. "Nurse has a ghost story, belonging to a farm-house, which she tells the housemaid, but she says she can't tell me till I am older, and I should so like to hear a ghost story, if it isn't too horrid."
"This ghost story isn't too horrid, I think," laughed the little old lady, "and if you will let me think a few minutes, and then forgive my prosy way of telling it, you shall have it at once."
There was a pause. The little old lady sat silent, and so sat Ida also, with her eyes intently fixed on Mrs. Overtheway's face, over which an occasional smile was passing.
"It's about a ghost who snored," said the little old lady, doubtfully.
"Delicious!" responded Ida. The two friends settled themselves comfortably, and in some such words as these was told the following story:—
