"If the price is all that stands in the way I'll work for my keep just to keep in practice."
"No," said Billy, "I'm—," he was going to say "afraid," but remembered Mr. Gas's advice and said, "I'm sure I don't need you."
"Well, I suppose if you won't, you won't—but anyway come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening. I'd like you to meet the wife and children—my wife is a little high-spirited—the ghost of a lighthouse-keeper's daughter, but she will thaw out after a while, and I'm sure she can fix up a nice little supper for us."
"I really have not time," said Billy, backing off.
"Not if I tell you that we have some cold fear pie and a roast of imagination, a neat little salad of blood-curdling screams topped off with groan pudding—come, that ought to tempt you—and I'll get the children to do the shadow dance for you after supper."
"You are very kind, I'm sure," said Billy, "but I have a message I must deliver to Bogie Man."
"You don't mean to tell me that you're Billy Bounce?" exclaimed the Ghost.
"Yes!" said Billy.
"What have I done? Oh! me! that's what comes of getting old and near-sighted—I took you for little Tommy Jones."
"No, I'm Billy Bounce."