amp is in my purse full sore." The music ended with a
sweet glee of _Faith_ and _Temperance Murthwaite_ (something sober, but
I know it liked _Father_ none the worse) and the old _English_ song of
"Summer is ycumen in," sung of _Father_ and Sir _Robert_, our _Helen_,
and _Isabel Meade_. Then we sat around the fire till rear-supper, and
had "Questions and Commands," and cried forfeits, and wound up with "I
love my love." And some were rare witty and mirthful in that last,
particularly Sir _Robert_, who did treat his love to oranges and
orfevery in the _Orcades_ [Hebrides] (and _Father_ said he marvelled how
he gat them there), and Aunt _Joyce_, who said her love was _Benjamin
Breakrope_, and he came from the Tower of _Babel_. Then, after that,
fell we a-telling stories: and a right brave one of _Father_, out of one
of his old Chronicles, how Queen _Philippa_ gat a pardon from her lord
for the six gentlemen of _Calais_: and a merry, of Dr _Meade_, touching
King _John_ and the Abbot of _Canterbury_, and the three questions that
the King did ask at the Abbot's gardener (he playing his master), and
the witty answers he made unto him. Then would Master _Armstrong_ tell
a tale; and an awesome ghost-story it were, that made my flesh creep,
and _Milisent_ whispered in mine ear that she should sleep never a wink
at after it.

"Eh!" saith Farmer _Benson_, and fetched an heavy sigh: "ghosts be ill
matter of an house."

"Saw you e'er a ghost, Farmer _Benson_?" saith _Dudley Murthwaite_.

"Nay, lad," quoth he: "I've had too much good daylight work in my time
to lie awake a-seeing ghosts when night cometh."

"Ah, but I've seen a ghost," saith _Austin Park_.

"Oh, where?" cried a dozen together.

"Why, it was but night afore last," saith he, "up by the old white-thorn
that was strake of the lightning, come two years last Midsummer, just at
yon reach o' the lake that comes up higher than the rest."

"Ay, ay," saith Farmer _Benson_: "and what like were it, Master
_Austin_?"

"A woman all in white, with her head cut off," quoth he.

"Said she aught to thee?"

"Nay, I gave her no chance; I took to my heels," quoth he.

"Now, _Austin_, that should I ne'er have done," saith Aunt _Joyce_, who
believes in ghosts never a whit. "I would have stood my ground, for I
did never yet behold a ghost, and would dearly love to do it: and do but
think how curious it should be to find out what she spake withal, that
had her head cut off.