“Maybe,” Scoop grinned, keeping up the argument, “the man had a gun or a sword.”
“Bunk!” I grunted, disgusted with the arguer, who is never so happy as when he is trying, superior-like, to talk some one else down. “They saw a ghost,” I waggled, “and nothing else but.”
My stiff attitude seemed to amuse the other.
“All right,” he nodded. “Have it your own way. It was a ghost, as you say. And what is a ghost? A supernatural thing, if we are to believe the crazy stories that we have heard. And, being supernatural, a ghost, of course, knows everything. It doesn’t have to ask questions. It knows what it wants to know without asking. Isn’t that right?” [[28]]
I nodded.
“All right!” he came back quickly, a snappier sparkle in his eyes. “If this visitor of yours was a ghost, as you declare, why did it ask you where you were? Explain that, if you can.”
Peg scratched his head and squinted at me.
“That’s a good argument, Jerry.”
But I wasn’t going to back down and let the smart one have everything his own way.
“Huh!” I said, standing by my belief.