ir, though."

Mr. Bartram Lindsay took off his glasses and twiddled them in his
fingers.

"Well, well," he said in a low hurried voice; "I'm not the parson, and I
don't pretend to say what you should believe and what you shouldn't. We
know precious little as to how much the spirits of the dead see and know
of what they have left behind. But I think you may venture to assure
yourself that when a poor soul has passed the waves of this troublesome
world, by whatever means, it doesn't come back kicking about under a
white sheet in dark lanes, to frighten little boys from going to
school."

"And that's very true, sir," said John Gardener, admiringly.

"So it is," said Master Arthur. "I couldn't have explained that myself,
Willie; but those are my sentiments; and I beg you'll attend to what Mr.
Lindsay has told you."

"Yes, sir," said Bill.

Mr. Lindsay laughed, though not quite merrily, and said,--

"I could tell him something more, Arthur, though he's too young to
understand it; namely, that if he lives, the day will come, when he
would be only too happy if the dead might come back and hold out their
hands to us, anywhere, and for however short a time."

The young gentleman stopped abruptly; and the gardener heaved a
sympathetic sigh.

"I tell you what it is, Bartram," muttered Master Arthur, "I suppose I'm
too young too, for I've had quite enough of the melancholies for one
night. As to you, you're as old as the hills; but it's time you came
home; and if I'd known before what you told me to-night, old fellow, you
shouldn't have come out on this expedition.--Now, for you, Willie,"
added the young gentleman, whirling sharply round, "if you're not a
pattern Solomon henceforth, it won't be the fault of your friends. And
if wisdom doesn't bring you to school after this, I shall try the
argument of the one-legged donkey."

"I don't think I shall miss next time, sir."

"I hope you won't.--Now, John, as you've come so far, you may as well
see the lad home; but don't shake hands with the family in the present
state of your fists, or you might throw somebody into a fit.
Good-night!"

Yew-lane echoed a round of "Good-nights," and Bill and the gardener went
off in high spirits. As they crossed the road, Bill looked round, and
under the trees saw the young gentlemen strolling back to the Rectory,
arm in arm. Mr. Bartram Lindsay with his chin high in the air, and
Master Arthur vehemently exhorting him on some topic, of w