The ghost was, so to speak, dead, as far as any mention of him was made at the Lodgings. But in the servants' quarters he was very much alive.
The housemaid, who had promised not to tell "any one" that Miss Scott had seen a ghost, kept her word with literal strictness, by telling every one.
Robinson was of opinion that the general question of ghosts was still an open one. Also that he had never heard in his time, or his father's, of the Barber's ghost actually appearing in the Warden's library. When the maids expressed alarm, he reproved them with a grumbling scorn. If ghosts did ever appear, he felt that the Lodgings had a first-class claim to one; ghosts were "classy," he argued. Had any one ever heard tell of a ghost haunting a red brick villa or a dissenting chapel?
Louise had gathered up the story without difficulty, but she had secret doubts whether Miss Scott might not have invented the whole thing. She did not put much faith in Miss Scott. Now, if Lady Dashwood had seen the ghost, that would have been another matter!
What really excited Louise was the story that the Barber came to warn Wardens of an approaching disaster. Now Louise was in any case prepared to believe that "disasters" might easily be born and bred in places like the Lodgings and in a city like Oxford; but in addition to all this there had been and was something going on in the Lodgings lately that was distressing Lady Dashwood, something in the behaviour of the Warden! A disaster! Hein?
When she returned from St. Aldates, Gwendolen Scott had had only time to sit down in a chair and survey her boots for a few moments when Louise came into her bedroom and suggested that Mademoiselle would like to have her hair well brushed. Mademoiselle's hair had suffered from the passing events of the day.
"Doesn't Lady Dashwood want you?" asked Gwendolen.
No, Lady Dashwood was already dressed and was reposing herself on the couch, being fatigued. She was lying with her face towards the window, which was indeed wide open—wide open, and it was after sunset and at the end of October—par example!
Gwendolen still stared at her boots and said she wanted to think; but Louise had an object in view and was firm, and in a few minutes she had deposited the young lady in front of the toilet-table and was brushing her black curly hair with much vigour.
"Mademoiselle saw the ghost last night," began Louise.