"No," answered John Mortimer, following his lead; "they would be no use
for the children to play with."

"Do they scratch, then?" inquired the little Anastasia.

"No, my beauty bright, but I'm told they only wake up when it's too dark
for children to play."

"Peter's ghost doesn't," observed Master Bertram. "He came in the
morning."

"Did he steal anything?" inquired Brandon, still desirous, it seemed, to
throw dirt at the great idea.

"Oh no, he didn't steal," said the other little boy, "that's not what
they're for."

"What did he say then?"

"He gave a deep sigh, but he didn't say _nothink_."

"Ghosts," said Bertie, following up his brother's speech as one who had
full information--"ghosts are not birds, they don't come to lay eggs for
you, or to be of any use at all. They come for you to be afraid of.
Didn't you know that, father?"

John was too much vexed to answer, and Peter's chance from that moment
of ever entering those doors again was not worth a rush.

"But you needn't mind, father dear," said Janie, the eldest child