she saw the Barber's ghost," said Lady Dashwood.

The Warden looked up in surprise. There was a slight and bitter smile at
the corners of his mouth. Then he straightened himself in his chair and
looked frowning into the fire. That Gwendolen should have taken a
college "story" seriously and "made a scene" about it was particularly
repugnant to him.

"She came in here; why I don't know, and no doubt was full of the story
about the Barber appearing in the library," said Lady Dashwood. "We
ought not to have talked about it to any one so excitable. Then she
knocked her head against the book-case and was in a state of daze, in
which she could easily mistake the moonlight coming through an opening
in the curtains for a ghost, and if a ghost, then of course the Barber's
ghost. And so all this fuss!"

"I see," said the Warden, gloomily.

"As soon as we got upstairs, I had to pack Louise off before she had
time to hear anything, for I can't have the whole household upset simply
because a girl allows herself to become hysterical. May is now sitting
with Gwen, as she won't be left alone for a moment."

"What are you going to do?" asked the Warden, in a slow hard voice.

"That's the question," she said, looking down at him narrowly.

"Do you want a doctor?" he asked. "Is it bad enough for that? It is
rather late to ask any one to come in when there isn't any actual
illness."

"A doctor would be worse than useless."

"Well, then, what do you suggest?" he asked.

"Couldn't you say something to her to quiet her?" said Lady Dashwood.

The Warden looked surprised. "I couldn't say anything, Lena, that you
couldn't say. You can speak with authority when you like."

"More is wanted than that. She must be made to think she saw nothing
here in this library," said Lady Dashwood. "You used to be able to
'suggest.' Don't you remember?"

The Warden pondered and said nothing.

"She would like to keep the whole house awake--if she had the chance,"
said Lady Dashwood, and the bitterness in her voice made her brother
wince.

"Couldn't you make her believe that the ghost won't, or can't come
again, or that there are no such things as ghosts?"

The Warden sat still; the glow was dying out of the cigar he held
between his fingers. He did not move.

"When you were a boy you found it easy enough to suggest; I remember I
disapproved of it. I want you to do it now, because we must have quiet
in the house."

"She may not be susceptibl