das right, honey lamb," say de school-teacher. An' she say:
"I been s'picious dey ain' no ghostes dis long whiles, an' now I know.
Ef all de ghostes say dey ain' no ghosts, dey _ain'_ no ghosts."

So yever'body 'low dat o cep' Zack Badget, whut been tellin' de
ghost-tale, an' he ain' gwine say "Yis" an' he ain' gwine say "No,"
'ca'se he right sweet on de school-teacher; but he know right well he
done seen plinty ghostes in he day. So he boun' to be sure fust. So he
say to li'l black Mose:

"'Tain' likely you met up wid a monstrous big ha'nt whut live down de
lane whut he name Bloody Bones?"

"Yas," say li'l black Mose, "I done met up wid him."

"An' did old Bloody Bones done tol' you dey ain' no ghosts?" say Zack
Badget.

"Yas," say li'l black Mose, "he done tell me perzactly dat."

"Well, if _he_ tol' you dey ain' no ghosts," say Zack Badget, "I got to
'low dey ain't no ghosts, 'ca'se he ain't gwine tell no lie erbout it. I
know dat Bloody Bones ghost sence I was a piccaninny, an' I done met up
wif him a powerful lot o' times, an' he ain't gwine tell no lie erbout
it. Ef dat perticklar ghost say dey ain't no ghosts, dey ain't no
ghosts."

So yever'body say:

"Das right; dey ain't no ghosts."

An' dat mek li'l black Mose feel mighty good, 'ca'se he ain' lek
ghostes. He reckon he gwine be a heap mo' comfortable in he mind sence
he know dey ain't no ghosts, an' he reckon he ain' gwine be skeered of
nuffin' never no more. He ain't gwine min' de dark, an' he ain't gwine
min' de rain-doves whut go, "Ooo-_oo_-o-o-o!" an' he ain' gwine min' de
owls whut go, "Who-_who_-o-o-o!" an' he ain' gwine min' de wind whut go,
"You-_you_-o-o-o!" nor nuffin, nohow. He gwine be brave as a lion, sence
he know fo' sure dey ain' no ghosts. So prisintly he ma say:

"Well, time fo' a li'l black boy whut he name is Mose to be gwine up de
ladder to de loft to bed."

An' li'l black Mose he 'low he gwine wait a bit. He 'low he gwine jes
wait a li'l bit. He 'low he gwine be no trouble _at_ all ef he jes been
let wait twell he ma she gwine up de ladder to de loft to bed, too. So
he ma she say:

"Git erlong wid yo'! Whut you skeered ob whin dey ain't no ghosts?"

An' li'l black Mose he scrooge, an' he twist, an' he pucker up he mouf,
an' he rub he eyes, an' prisintly he say right low:

"I ain't skeered ob ghosts whut am, 'ca'se dey ain't no ghosts."

"Den what am yo' skeered ob?" ask he ma.

"Nuffin'," say de li'l black boy whut he