"I say, how did you feel last night when it was all going on?" she inquired.
"Awfully nice," he rejoined. "I had little warm shivers all over me."
"So had I," she said, "like small electric shocks; and I believed in the ghost and everything. I expect that is why that kind of supernatural business is kept up, because it makes people feel creepy and nice. You can't get the same sensation in any other way, and I dare say there are lots of people who wouldn't like to lose a whole set of sensations. I should think they're the kind of people who collect the remains of a language to save it when it begins to die out."
"I should say those were intelligent people," her uncle observed. Angelica looked at him doubtfully.
"Well, at any rate, I should like to believe in ghosts," said
Diavolo.
"So should I," said Angelica, "in fun, you know; and I was thinking so last night; but then I could not help noticing what a fool Aunt Fulda was making of herself, and grandpapa looked such a precious old idiot too. They weren't enjoying it a bit, You were the only one of the family, Uncle Dawne, who believed and looked dignified."
"Who told you I believed?" he asked.
"Well, I'm not sure that you did," Angelica answered. "But at all events, your demeanour was respectful—hence the dignity, perhaps!"
"If yours were a little more respectful you would gain in dignity too, I imagine," Diavolo observed.
Angelica boxed his ears promptly, whereupon her uncle took her to task with unusual severity for him: "You are quite grown up now," he said. "You talk like a mature woman, and act like a badly brought up child of ten. You are always doing something ridiculous too. I should be ashamed to have you at my house."