"One more," said Mr. Farrer, regarding him pleasantly. "One I call the Running Ghost."
"Run—" began the sergeant-major, and stopped suddenly.
"It came in at the front gate," pursued Mr. Farrer. "A tall, well-knit figure of martial bearing—much about your height, Mr. Ward—with a beautiful filmy white robe down to its knees—"
He broke off in mild surprise, and stood gazing at Miss Ward, who, with her handkerchief to her mouth, was rocking helplessly in her chair.
"Knees," he repeated, quietly. "It came slowly down the path, and half way to the house it stopped, and in a frightened sort of voice called out my name. I was surprised, naturally, but before I could get to it—to reassure it—"
"That'll do," said the sergeant-major, rising hastily and drawing himself up to his full height.
"You asked me," said Mr. Farrer, in an aggrieved voice.
"I know I did," said the sergeant-major, breathing heavily. "I know I did; but if I sit here listening to any more of your lies I shall be ill. The best thing you can do is to take that giggling girl out and give her a breath of fresh air. I have done with her."