At length
a good-looking country-woman, of about forty-five years, made her
appearance, and, after a low courtesy, was solemnly motioned to take a
seat.

"Well, Mrs. Houlaghan," said he, "how do you do?"

The poor woman got as pale as death. "Heavenly Father," thought she,
"how does it happen that he comes to know my name!"

"Mrs. Houlaghan, what can I do for you? not that I need ask, for I could
give a very good guess at it;" and this he added with a very sage and
solemn visage, precisely as if he knew the whole circumstances.

"Why, your honor," she replied--"but, blessed Father, how did you come
to know my name?"

"That's a question," he replied, solemnly, "which you ought not to ask
me. It is enough that you see I know it. How is your husband, Frank, and
how is your daughter, Mary? She's complaining of late--is she not?"

This private knowledge of the family completely overwhelmed her, and she
felt unable to speak for some time.

"Do not be in a hurry, Mrs. Honlaghan," said he, mildly; "reflect upon
what you are about to say, and take your time."

"It's a ghost, your reverence," she replied--"a ghost that haunts the
house."

"Very well, Mrs. Houlaghan; the fee for laying a ghost is five
shillings; I will trouble you for that sum; we conjurers have no power
until we get money from the party concerned, and then we can work with
effect."

The simple woman, in the agitation of the moment, handed him the amount
of his demand, and then collected herself to hear the response, and the
means of laying the ghost.

"Well, now," said he, "tell me all about this ghost, Mrs. Houlaghan. How
long has it been troubling the family?"

"Why, then, ever since Frank lost the use of his sight, now goin' upon
five months."

"When does it appear?"

"Why, generally afther twelve at night; and what makes it more strange
is, that poor Mary's more afeard o' me than she is of the ghost. She
says it appears to her in her bedroom every night; but she knows I'm so
timersome that she keeps her door always locked for fraid I'd see it,
poor child."

"Does it terrify her?"

"Not a bit; she says it does her no harm on earth, and that it's great
company for her when she can't sleep."

"Has Mary many sweethearts?"

"She has two: one o' them rather ould, but wealthy and well to do; her
father and myself, wishin' to see her well settled, are doin' all we can
to get her consent to marry him."

"Who's the other?"

"One Brine Oge