“‘Jeckson!’ said the ghost, and whips oot a wee book. ‘That’s the very man!’ said he. ‘Man! is’t no’ aggravatin’? Here’s me skooshin’ up and doon the coast wi’ my thin flannels on lookin’ for him, and him toastin’ his taes at a fire in Buccleuch Street! Jist you wait. It shows ye the wye the books in oor place is kept. If the office was richt up-to-date, Jeckson wadna be flitted ten meenutes when his new address wad be marked doon. No wonder the Americans is batin’ us! Weel, it’s no’ my faut if I’m up the wrang close, and I’m no’ gaun to start the job the nicht. I’m far ower cauld.’
“There was an empty gless and a teaspoon on the dresser, for Jinnet had been giein’ me a drap toddy afore she gaed oot. The ghost ‘sat doon on a chair and looked at the gless.
“‘Could ye save a life?’ said he.
“‘Whit wad be the use o’ giein’ it to you, Peter?’ I asked him; ‘ye havena ony inside, seein’ ye’re a ghost.’
“Have I no’?’ says he. ‘Jist try me.’ So I pointed to the press, and he took oot the decanter as smert’s ye like and helped himsel’.
“He turned oot a rale nice chap in spite o’ his tred, and he gave me a’ the oots and ins o’t. ‘I’ve nae luck’ he said. ‘It’s my first job at the hauntin’, and I’ve made a kind o’ botch o’t, though it’s no’ my faut. I’m a probationer; jist on my trial, like yin o’ thae U.F. ministers. Maybe ye think it’s easy gettin’ a haunter’s job; but I’m tellin’ ye it’s no’ that easy, and when ye get it, it’s wark that tak’s it oot o’ ye. There’s mair gangs in for the job there than for the Ceevil Service here, and the jobs go to compeetition. “Ye hae’ to pass an examination, and ye hae nae chance o’ gettin’ yin if ye divna mak? mair nor ninety per cent o’ points. Mind ye, there’s mair than jist plain ghost-wark! It used to be, in the auld days, that a haunter wad be sent to dae onything,—to rattle chains, or gie ye the clammy hand, or be a blood-curdler.
Nooadays there’s half a dizzen different kinds o’ haunters. I’m a blood-curdler mysel’,’ and he gied a skreich that nearly broke a’ the delf on the dresser.
‘Nane o’ that!’ says I, no’ very weel pleased. ‘Ye’ll hae the neebours doon on us. Forbye, there’s naething patent aboot that sort o’ skreich. Duffy the coalman could dae better himsel’. That’s no’ the wye a dacent ghost should cairry on in ony hoose whaur he’s gettin’ a dram.’
“‘Excuse me,’ he says; ‘it’s the dram that’s ta’en my heid. Ye see, I’m no’ used to’t. It’s mony a day since I had yin.’
“‘Are they that strict yonder?’ I asked.