village.

Her attitude of importance, the air of mystery she assumed, were
preparations I had long been accustomed to in women of this kind, and I
was not at all surprised when she announced in a way that admitted of no
dispute:

"Oh, there's no wonder the child is sick. We would be sick under the
circumstances. _He has seen the phantom coach._"

The phantom coach! So that was what the locksmith meant. A phantom
coach! I had heard of every kind of phantom but that. Somehow the idea
was a thrilling one, or would have been to a nature less practical than
mine.

"I don't know what you mean," said I. "Some superstition of the place? I
never heard of a ghostly appearance of that nature before."

"No, I expect not. It belongs to X. I never heard of it beyond these
mountains. Indeed, I have never known it to have been seen but upon one
road. I need not mention what road, madam. You can guess."

Yes, I could guess, and the guessing made me set my lips a little
grimly.

"Tell me more about this thing," I urged, half laughing. "It ought to be
of some interest to me."

She nodded, drew her chair a trifle nearer, and impetuously began:

"You see this is a very old town. It has more than one ancient country
house similar to the one you are now living in, and it has its early
traditions. One is, that an old-fashioned coach, perfectly noiseless,
drawn by horses through which you can see the moonlight, haunts the
highroad at intervals and flies through the gloomy forest road we have
christened of late years Lost Man's Lane. It is a superstition,
possibly, but you cannot find many families in town but believe in it as
a fact, for there is not an old man or woman in the place but has either
seen it in the past or has had some relative who has seen it. It passes
only at night, and it is thought to presage some disaster to those who
see it. My husband's uncle died the next morning after it flew by him on
the highway. Fortunately years elapse between its going and coming. It
is ten years, I think they say, since it was last seen. Poor little Rob!
It has frightened him almost out of his wits."

"I should think so," I cried with becoming credulity. "But how came he
to see it? I thought you said it only passed at night."

"At midnight," she repeated. "But Rob, you see, is a nervous lad, and
night before last he was so restless he could not sleep, so he begged to
be put in the window to cool off. This his mother did, and he sat the