Uncle Peter tuned up his mezzo contralto voice and began to write a
book about the delights of a country home.

It was a cinch, I assured myself, that the ghost story I had
broiled up to tell on the morrow would send my suburban-mad family
scurrying back to town.

Many times mentally I went over the blood curdling details and I
flattered myself that I surely had a lot of shivery goods for sale.

I couldn't see myself losing at all, at all.

So me for Jiggersville in the morning.




CHAPTER II.

JOHN HENRY'S GHOST STORY.

When the alarm clock went to work the next morning Clara J. turned
around and gave it a look that made its teeth chatter.

She had been up and doing an hour before that clock grew nervous
enough to crow.

Her enthusiasm was so great that she was a Busy-Lizzie long before
7 o'clock and we were not booked to leave the Choo-Choo House till
10:30.