ll you not?"

"I will not!" returned Pat sturdily. "It's my joke, and I'm not going
to have it spoiled. You leave them to fight it out between themselves,
and if they come out alive you'll hear the tale first hand. `What do my
eyes behold?' says he. `What fairy form is this I see before me?'
`Pity me!' says she. `What's that white pillar over there by the
window? It's a dust sheet that Molly has been hanging over the
curtains, and maybe the draught is making it move. Oh, oh, oh, there's
a head to it! It's alive! It comes towards me! What will I do? What
will I do?'"

Pat clasped his hands in affected terror, and shrieked in clever
imitation of his sister's manner. The door was still ajar, and as he
stopped a sound from below rose faintly to the ears of his companions, a
second shriek so alike in tone and expression that it might have been
the echo of his own. "Pixie," cried Bridgie wildly, "at him, Pixie! At
him!" And like a flash of lightning Pixie lay prone on the floor with
her arms wound tightly round Pat's legs. He swayed and staggered,
clutched at the wall, and felt Mademoiselle's arms nip him from behind,
as the door flew open, and Bridgie sped like a lapwing along the
gallery.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE WHITE LADY.

Esmeralda set out on her expedition in the highest spirits, for a girl
who is brought up on a regime of outdoor sport is not troubled with
nerves, and she laughed at the suggestion of ghosts with the scorn which
it deserved. What she did not laugh at, however, was the promise of
Pat's racket, a gift to him from an absent godfather, and coveted by all
his brothers and sisters, but by none so much as Esmeralda, who played a
very pretty game of her own, and felt a conviction that she could
distinguish herself still more if she possessed a good racket instead of
the old one which had done duty for years, and was now badly sprung.

Pat had promised in the presence of witnesses to hand over his treasure
if she returned to the schoolroom without--oh, elegant
expression!--"letting a howl out of her," and Esmeralda smiled to
herself at the unlikeliness of such a proceeding. Why, except for the
cold air, it was really a treat to walk along the disused old gallery
which traversed the left wing of the Castle, where the moonbeams shone
in through the long row of windows with such picturesque effect. She
sauntered along, enjoying the scene with artistic appreciation, even
feeling a sense