bade her friends good-bye and, wrapped in her red cloak, with a lamp and
prayer book, went down into the cellar. Alas for pretty Peggy! When day
came she was gone, and with her the miser's empty box, though his bones
remained to prove how well she had done her work.

"The town was in an uproar, and the old man furious. Some said the devil
had flown away with her, others that the bones were hers, and all agreed
that henceforth another ghost would haunt the house. My uncle and the
artist did their best to comfort the father, who sorely reproached
himself for thwarting the girl's love, and declared that if Jack would
find her he should have her. But Jack had sailed, and the old man 'was
left lamenting.' The house was freed from its unearthly visitors,
however, for no ghost appeared; and when my uncle left, old Martin found
money and letter informing him that Peggy had spent her first two nights
preparing for flight, and on the third had gone away to marry and sail
with Jack. The noises had been produced by the artist, who was a
ventriloquist, the skeleton had been smuggled from the surgeons, and the
whole thing was a conspiracy to help Peggy and accommodate the
fishermen."

"It is evident that roguery is hereditary," laughed Rose as the
narrator paused.

"I strongly suspect that Sir Jasper the second was the true hero of that
story," added Mrs. Snowdon.

"Think what you like, I've done my part, and leave the stage for
you, madam."

"I will come last. It is your turn, dear." As Mrs. Snowdon softly