ew he would be angry; and occupied with
real anxiety for her daughter, she soon forgot it herself. Consequently,
the next night-school night she sent Bill to "clean himself," hurried on
his tea, and packed him off, just as if nothing had happened. The boy's
feelings since the night of the apparition had not been enviable. He
could neither eat nor sleep. As he lay in bed at night, he kept his face
covered with the clothes, dreading that if he peeped out into the room
the phantom of the murdered horseman would beckon to him from the dark
corners. Lying so till the dawn broke and the cocks began to crow, he
would then look cautiously forth, and seeing by the gray light that the
corners were empty, and that the figure by the door was not the Yew-lane
Ghost, but his mother's faded print dress hanging on a nail, would drop
his head and fall wearily asleep. The day was no better, for each hour
brought him nearer to the next night-school; and Bessy's illness made
his mother so busy that he never could find the right moment to ask her
sympathy for his fears, and still less could he feel himself able to
overcome them. And so the night-school came round again, and there he
sat, gulping down a few mouthfuls of food, and wondering how he should
begin to tell his mother that he neither dare, could, nor would, go down
Yew-lane again at night. He had just opened his lips when the father
came in, and asked in a loud voice "why Bill was not off." This
effectually put a stop to any confidences, and the boy ran out of the
house. Not, however, to school. He made one or two desperate efforts at
determination, and then gave up altogether. He _could_ not go!

He was wondering what he should do with himself, when it struck him that
he would go while it was daylight and look for the grave with the odd
verse of which Bessy had spoken. He had no difficulty in finding it. It
was marked by a large ugly stone, on which the inscription was green,
and in some places almost effaced.

SACRED TO THE MEMORY.
OF
EPHRAIM GARNETT--

He had read so far when a voice close by him said--

"You'll be late for school, young chap."

Bill looked up, and to his horror beheld Bully Tom standing in the road
and kicking the churchyard wall.

"Aren't you going!" he asked, as Bill did not speak.

"Not to-night," said Bill, with crimson cheeks.

"Larking, eh?" said Bully Tom. "My eyes, won't your f