"A bar-ghost, Joe, or else th' old lad!" answered Friskit, with a chattering of the teeth.
Noah Wallhead laughed; but Toby and Joe, seeing the young ghost-seer was now able to sit up without help, requested him, when they had closed the door, to tell his story at length, and conceal nothing.
The repentant Frank avowed himself to be the guilty perpetrator of a series of malicious attempts upon the natural liberty of Toby Lackpenny's cat! Every urchin in the village of Haxey had been blamed, at one time or other, for the base machination of setting "snickles," or nooses of wire, in the tailor's little garden. The sage Toby profoundly conjectured, and openly maintained, all along, that these wicked devices were intended to ensnare his favourite tabby; but neither he, nor any one else, had ever suspected Frank Friskit to be the foul conspirator, inasmuch as he was so frequently in Toby's cot, and on friendly terms with him. Under the agitation of affright, the conscience-stricken and self-discovered culprit solemnly vowed that he would forsake the way of transgression thenceforth; for he had seen such a sight, while setting a snickle, as he could never forget as long as he lived! How he had got over the hedge he could not tell:—he believed his wits left him as soon as he saw the bar-ghost,—for he could remember nothing besides that queer sight!
"But what was it like, Frank?" asked Joe.
"Like!—why it had a dark-looking face, and a pair of eyes as big as owls' heads!" replied the lad, with a shudder.
"And how big was it?" asked Joe, again.
"I only saw the great foul face grinning and staring at me, and all on a blaze,—and then it was gone!" said Frank.
Joe received the last answer with a smile,—but, on turning round, when Noah Wallhead touched his elbow, he could not forbear laughter. Noah showed Joe the hollow turnip, with its eyes and mouth, that had so marvellously affrighted the younger apprentice when lit up with a bit of candle,—a common trick among rustic youngsters. Toby, however, was not let into the secret, and took it very ill that Joe, especially, should laugh at what he considered a very alarming narrative. Feeling it incumbent on himself to use this advantageous opportunity for enforcing a homily on reform, he thus addressed himself to the penitent Frank Friskit:—
"Be thankful, foolish boy," he said, "that this evil spirit has done thee no real harm; and, for the future, lay aside thy wicked follies. And, above all, Frank, bethink thee that thou has' been guilty of a great sin to be so long pretending good neighbourship with me, and yet to be all the while plotting how to snickle my poor dumb creatur'. No wonder the bar-ghost should visit thee! Say thy Belief, as well as thy prayers, to-night, Frank,—and be a good lad in futur', and then thou may' hope that the Lord will forgive this deceit, for that's a greater sin than mischief!"—and then, fearing to renew the lad's terrors,—since he already began to tremble afresh,—Toby besought Joe and Noah Wallhead to take him home.
Toby Lackpenny felt "indescribably queer," as he afterwards said,—when left alone that night. He tried to banish the remembrance of Frank's strange description of the trunkless head,—but he found that to be impossible, as long as he sat by the fire,—for every flicker of the flames startled him with a new fear or fancy. So he betook himself to bed. But alas! poor Toby's frame had been so completely weakened by fasting, and his indulgence of the marvelling propensity of his constitution had rendered his understanding and will so powerless, that he felt like a being that has no longer any self-government. The head,—the queer head that Frank had seen,—with its fiery eyes and mouth,—was all Toby could think about, as he lay tossing to and fro in bed:—"What a marvellous sight it must have been!" said Toby to himself,—"a grinning dark face, with eyes as big as owls' heads,"—the boy said;—"all on a blaze in a moment, and then gone!" And the revolting picture, at length, burst in reality,—he believed,—before his eyes! Nor had he the power to banish the uncouth and distorted phantasm,—although he gathered up all his courage and tried to laugh, once:—it was in vain,—the sound of his own forced laughter caused his skin to creep! Then Toby shut his eyes, and turned himself on his pillow, and bravely resolved he would sleep,—but it still was in vain:—when his eyelids ached with the compressure he had exerted upon them, he opened his eyes once more,—and lo! there was a real, grinning, goggle-eyed head,—all on fire,—coming towards him, from an immense distance! The trunkless head was a mile off, apparently,—but it was coming,—and what was he to do? It came on rapidly,—and the heart of poor Toby beat loudly against his ribs, and the perspiration started from his brow; and, at length, when the glaring phantom of a head was approaching very near, he made a convulsive effort, and dashed his head beneath the bed-clothes! Half suffocated with heat and fear, he threw the clothes sufficiently off to obtain a breath or two, when, to his unspeakable relief, his incomprehensible tantaliser vanished.