“I am very sorry, sir,” sighed Miss Gay, taking her hand from the chair to depart. “If the room is close, or anything of that——”
“But it is not close, ma’am. I don’t know what it is. And I’m sure I hope you will be able to find it out, and get it remedied,” concluded Featherston as she withdrew.
We then told him of our experience, John’s and mine. It amazed him. “What an extraordinary thing!” he exclaimed. “One would think the room was haunted.”
“Do you believe in haunted rooms, sir?” asked John.
“Well, I suppose such things are,” he answered. “Folks say so. If haunted houses exist, why not haunted rooms?”
“It must lie in the Pumpwater air,” said Lady Whitney, who was too practical to give in to haunted regions, “and I am very sorry you should have had your two nights’ rest spoilt by it, Mr. Featherston. I will take the room myself: nothing keeps me awake.”
“Did you ever see a ghost, sir?” asked John.
“No, never. But I know those who have seen them; and I cannot disbelieve what they say. One such story in particular is often in my mind; it was a very strange one.”
“Won’t you tell it us, Mr. Featherston?”
The doctor only laughed in answer. But after we came out of church, when he was sitting with me and John on the Parade, he told it. And I only wish I had space to relate it here.