yself--though it's not my place to say so. The young
gents make a bit too free with one, and when they opens their mouths
no one else may so much as sneeze. Think they know everything, they
do. There's a saying as I've heard, that asses sing badly 'cause they
pitch their voices too high. Maybe it's the same wi' them."

"Well, I hope Aunt Charlotte will enjoy their conversation," said
Austin comfortably. "I say, Lubin, do you know anything about a Mr St
Aubyn, who lives not far from here?"

"What, him at the Court?" replied Lubin. "I don't know him myself, but
they say as _he's_ a gentleman, and no mistake. Keeps himself to
himself, he does, and has always got a civil word for everybody. Fine
old place, too, that of his."

"Have you ever been inside?" asked Austin.

"Lor' no, Sir," answered Lubin. "Don't know as I'm over anxious to,
either. The garden's a sight, it's true--but it seems there's
something queer about the house. Can't make out what it can be, unless
the drains are a bit out of order. But it ain't that neither. Sort o'
frightening--so folks say. But lor', some folks'll say anything. I
never knew anybody as ever _saw_ anything there. It's only some old
woman's yarn, I reckon."

"Oh, is it haunted? Are there any ghosts?" cried Austin, in great
excitement. "I'd give anything in this world to see a ghost!"

"I don't know as I'd care to sleep in a haunted house myself," said
Lubin, beginning to sweep the lawn. "Some folks don't mind that sort
o' thing, I s'pose; must have got accustomed to it somehow. Then
there's those as is born ghost-seers, and others as couldn't see one,
not if it was to walk arm-in-arm with 'em to church. Let's hope Mr St
Aubyn's one o' that sort, seeing as he's got to live there. It's poor
work being a baker if your head's made of butter, I've heard say."

"Then it _is_ haunted!" exclaimed Austin. "What a bit of luck. You
see, Lubin, I know Mr St Aubyn just a little, and soon I'm going to
lunch with him. How I shall be on the look-out! I wonder how it feels
to see a ghost. You've never seen one, have you?"

"Oh no, Sir," replied Lubin, shaking his head. "I doubt I'm not put
together that way. A blind man may shoot a crow by mistake, but he
ain't no judge o' colours. Though ghosts are mostly white, they say.
Well, it may be different with you, and when you go to lunch at the
Court, I'm sure I hope you'll see all the ghosts on the premises if
you've a fancy for that kind of wild fowl