"Oh, speak!" pleaded Cousin Mildred.
Evidently speech was a necessary part of this performance. William wondered whether ghosts spoke English or a language of their own. He inclined to the latter view and nobly took the plunge.
"Honk. Yonk. Ponk," he said, firmly.
Cousin Mildred gasped in wonder.
"Oh, explain," she pleaded, ardently. "Explain in our poor human speech. Some message——"
William took fright. It was all turning out to be much more complicated than he had expected. He hastily passed through the room and out of the door, closing it noisily behind him. As he ran along the passage came a sound like a crash of thunder. Outside in the passage were Cousin Mildred's boots, William's father's boots, and William's brother's boots, and into these charged William in his headlong retreat. They slid noisily along the polished wooden surface of the floor, ricochetting into each other as they went. Doors opened suddenly and William's father collided with William's brother in the dark passage, where they wrestled fiercely before they discovered each other's identity.
"I heard that confounded noise and I came out——"
"So did I."
"Well, then, who made it?"
"Who did?"