"I don't know as I'd care to sleep in a haunted house myself," said
Lubin, beginning to sweep the lawn. "Some folks don't mind that sort
o' thing, I s'pose; must have got accustomed to it somehow. Then
there's those as is born ghost-seers, and others as couldn't see one,
not if it was to walk arm-in-arm with 'em to church. Let's hope Mr St
Aubyn's one o' that sort, seeing as he's got to live there. It's poor
work being a baker if your head's made of butter, I've heard say."

"Then it _is_ haunted!" exclaimed Austin. "What a bit of luck. You
see, Lubin, I know Mr St Aubyn just a little, and soon I'm going to
lunch with him. How I shall be on the look-out! I wonder how it feels
to see a ghost. You've never seen one, have you?"

"Oh no, Sir," replied Lubin, shaking his head. "I doubt I'm not put
together that way. A blind man may shoot a crow by mistake, but he
ain't no judge o' colours. Though ghosts are mostly white, they say.
Well, it may be different with you, and when you go to lunch at the
Court, I'm sure I hope you'll see all the ghosts on the premises if
you've a fancy for that kind of wild fowl. Let ghosts leave me alone
and I'll leave them alone--that's all I've got to say. I never had no
hankering after gentry as go flopping around without their bodies.
'Tain't commonly decent, to my thinking. Don't hold with such goings
on myself."

"Oh, but you must make allowances for their circumstances," answered
Austin. "If they've got no bodies of course they can't put them on,
you know. Besides, there are ghosts and ghosts. Some are mischievous,
and some are very, very unhappy, and others come to do us good and
help us to find wills, and treasures, and all sorts of pleasant