r to
the closet and looked at Mr. 'Possum's Sunday suit, and pretty soon got
it out and tried on the coat, which wouldn't need a thing done to it to
make it fit exactly. He said he hoped Mr. 'Possum was resting well,
after the medicine, which he supposed was something to make him sleep,
as he had seemed drowsy so soon after taking it. He said it would be
sad, of course, though it might seem almost a blessing, if Mr. 'Possum
should pass away in his sleep, without knowing it, and he hoped Mr.
'Possum would rest in peace and not come back to distress people, as one
of Mr. 'Coon's own ancestors had done, a good while ago. Mr. 'Coon said
his mother used to tell them about it when she wanted to keep them at
home nights, though he didn't really believe in such things much, any
more, and he didn't think Mr. 'Possum would be apt to do it, anyway,
because he was always quite a hand to rest well. Of course, _any one_
was likely to _think_ of such things, he said, and get a little nervous,
especially at a time like this--and just then Mr. 'Coon looked toward
the door that led down to the big room, and Mr. Crow he looked toward
that door, too, and Mr. 'Coon gave a great jump, and said:

"Oh, my goodness!" and fell back over Mr. 'Possum's trunk.

And Mr. Crow he gave a great jump, too, and said:

"Oh, my gracious!" and fell back over Mr. 'Possum's chair.

For there in the door stood a figure shrouded all in white, all except
the head, which was Mr. 'Possum's, though very solemn, its eyes looking
straight at Mr. 'Coon, who still had on Mr. 'Possum's coat, though he
was doing his best to get it off, and at Mr. Crow, who still had Mr.
'Possum's pipe, though he was trying every way to hide it, and both of
them were scrabbling around on the floor and saying, "Oh, Mr. 'Possum,
go away--please go away, Mr. 'Possum--we always loved you, Mr.
'Possum--we can prove it."

But Mr. 'Possum looked straight at Mr. 'Coon, and said in a deep voice:

"What were you doing with my Sunday coat on?"

And Mr. 'Coon tried to say something, but only made a few weak noises.

And Mr. 'Possum looked at Mr. Crow and said:

"What were you doing with my pipe?"

And a little sweat broke out on Mr. Crow's bill, and he opened his mouth
as if he were going to say something, but couldn't make a sound.

Then Mr. 'Possum said, in a slow voice, so deep that it seemed to come
from down in the ground:

"_Give me my things!_"

And Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Crow said, v