quite dissatisfied with
Gentleman Jo's story. The latter noticed it.

"My story does not please you?" said Gentleman Jo.

"No; I am in a different mood to-night."

Master Lewis smiled.

Just then a quiet old lady, who had charge of a part of the rooms in
the Academy, appeared, a bunch of keys jingling by her side, much like
the wife of a porter of a lodge in an English castle.

"Grandmother Golden," said Charlie,--the boys were accustomed to
address the chatty, familiar old lady in this way,--"you have seen
ghosts, haven't you? What is the most startling thing that ever
happened in your life?"

Grandmother Golden had seated herself in one of the easy piazza
chairs. After a few minutes she was induced to follow Gentleman Jo in
an old-time story.

GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN'S ONLY GHOST STORY.

The custom in old times, when a person died, was for some one to sit
in the room and watch with the dead body in the night, as long as it
remained in the house. A good, pious custom it was, in my way of
thinking, though it is not common now.

Jemmy Robbin was a poor old man. They used to call him "Auld Robin
Gray," after the song, and he lived and died alone. His sister
Dorothea--Dorothy she was commonly called--took charge of the house
after his death, and she sent for Grandfather Golden to watch one
night with the corpse.

We were just married, grandfather and I, and he wanted I should
watch with him, for company; and as I could not bear that he should
be out of my sight a minute when I could help it, I consented. I was
young and foolish then, and very fond of grandfather,--we were in
our honeymoon, you know.

We didn't go to the house at a very early hour of the evening; it
wasn't customary for the watchers to go until it was nearly time for
the family to retire.

[Illustration: GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN.]

In the course of the evening there came to the house a traveller,--a
poor Irishman,--an old man, evidently honest, but rather simple, who
asked Dorothy for a lodging.

He said he had travelled far, was hungry, weary, and footsore, and
if turned away, knew not where he could go.

It was a stormy night, and the good heart of Dorothy was touched at
the story of the stranger, so she told him that he might stay.

After he had warmed himself and eaten the food she prepared for him,
she asked him to retire, saying that she expected company. Instead
of going with h