Mr. Broadstreet turned back the leaf with some misgiving, and looked carefully behind it. Nothing but blank white paper.
“H’m,” muttered Mr. Broadstreet to himself, “how a man’s fancy does play strange tricks with—Halloo!”
He was once more glancing at the picture, when the jolly Ghost gave him an unmistakable wink.
To say that the lawyer started, was astonished, struck dumb—would be mild. He sat staring at the page, not wholly believing his own eyes, and yet not liking to look upon such a—to say the least—peculiar picture.
While he was in this bewildered state of mind a rich, jovial voice was heard, apparently at a great distance, and at the same time proceeding directly from the book he held in his hand; and—yes, no doubt about it—the Ghost’s bearded lips were moving.
“Well?” said the Ghost of Christmas Present, still seeming very, very far off.