She took up her parasol—a pale blue one all covered with white lace—and pinted right up at a glass case, and says she:
“Phantom leaves I mean, you can see them.”
“Oh!” says I, “I thought you meant a ghost.” They was handsome; looked as white and delicate as the frost-work on our winders in December.
It wasn’t probable more’n half an hour after this that my pride had a fall. Truly, when we seem to be a standin’ up the straightest, tottlin’ may come onto us, and sudden crumplin’ of the spiritual knees. There I had been a boastin’ in my proud philosophical spirit that there was no such things as phantoms, and lo, and behold! within thirty-one minutes time, I thought I see a ghost appearin’ to me; I was skairt, and awe-stricken. The way on’t was, Josiah beset me to go into some of the different hot-houses in the buildin’, and I had told him firmly, that bein’ very fleshy and warm-blooded, I was satisfied and more’n satisfied with the heat of the place I was in; but if he wasn’t—bein’ thinner in flesh, if he felt chilly, he could go and I would meet him in a certain place. So he went on, and I meandered back into the Main Hall. And there I stood a lookin’ peacefully up into the boughs of a Injy Rubber tree, and thinkin’ pensively to myself what fools anybody was to think that rubber-boots and shoes grew right out of the tree, for they didn’t—no such thing; they had green leaves like any tree—when all of a sudden I heerd these words:
“Oh Doodle! Doodle! if you was alive, I shouldn’t be in this perdickerment!”
If I had had some hen’s feathers by me, I should have burnt a few, or if I had had a tea-cup of water I should have throwed some in my face, to keep me from faintin’ away. But not havin’ none of these conveniences by me, I see I must make a powerful effort, and try to control myself down; and jest as I was a makin’ this effort, these words come again to my almost rigid ear:
“Oh Doodle! Doodle! you never would have stood by, and seen your relict smashed to pieces right before your dear linement.”
And as I heerd these words I see her appearin’ to me. I see the Widder Doodle, emergin’ from the crushin’ crowd, and advancin’ onto me like a phantom. Says I to myself, “Be you a ghost or be you a phantom? Are you a fore-runner, Widder?” says I, “you be a fore-runner, I know you be,” for even as I looked I see behind her the form of Solomon Cypher advancin’ slowly on, and appearin’ to me too. I felt fearfully curious. But in about three-fourths of a minute my senses come back—for the big wave of folks sort o’ swept off somewhere else, and left the Widder Doodle some like a sea-weed nigh me. And on lookin’ closer at her I see that no respectable ghost who thought anything of itself, would go out in company lookin’ so like furyation—I felt better, and says I:
THE PHANTOM.