“And, though we don’t consult ‘Mine Host’
Before the thing’s arranged,
Still, if he often quits his post,
Or is not a well-mannered Ghost,
Then you can have him changed.
“But if the host’s a man like you—
I mean a man of sense;
And if the house is not too new—”
“Why, what has that,” said I, “to do
With Ghost’s convenience?”
“A new house does not suit, you know—
It’s such a job to trim it:
But, after twenty years or so,
The wainscotings begin to go,
So twenty is the limit.”
“To trim” was not a phrase I could
Remember having heard:
“Perhaps,” I said, “you’ll be so good
As tell me what is understood
Exactly by that word?”
“It means the loosening all the doors,”
The Ghost replied, and laughed:
“It means the drilling holes by scores
In all the skirting-boards and floors,
To make a thorough draught.
“You’ll sometimes find that one or two
Are all you really need
To let the wind come whistling through—
But here there’ll be a lot to do!”
I faintly gasped “Indeed!
“If I’d been rather later, I’ll
Be bound,” I added, trying
(Most unsuccessfully) to smile,
“You’d have been busy all this while,
Trimming and beautifying?”
“Why, no,” said he; “perhaps I should
Have stayed another minute—
But still no Ghost, that’s any good,
Without an introduction would
Have ventured to begin it.
“The proper thing, as you were late,
Was certainly to go:
But, with the roads in such a state,
I got the Knight-Mayor’s leave to wait
For half an hour or so.”