THE HAUNTED CABIN.
THERE are ghosts of all ages and conditions—grey-haired ghosts, and ghosts with golden locks; spectres in shrouds, and apparitions in bridal-array but by common consent it would seem to have been agreed that all should be alike melancholy and awe-inspiring. Hollow groans herald the approach of some; the rattling of chains accompanies the march of others. A merry ghost who ran laughing down a corridor, or a mischievous ghost who peeped through a half-open door with smiling eyes, would not be counted as one of the true breed by any who had the slightest acquaintance with the class to which it claimed to belong. Who ever heard of a rosy smiling spectre, of a plump and dimpled ghost frolicking in the noonday sunshine? Yet if ever I saw a spirit in my life it was one of this kind—a blue-eyed, golden-haired child-ghost, who, in spite of blooming cheeks and bright eyes, was as veritable a spectre as any shrouded vision.
I was returning to India in good health and excellent spirits. My visit to England had been a short one, but I was eager to rejoin my husband and show him the improvement a few months had made in our Robbie, a bonny boy of three. I mention these facts to show that I was not in a state of mind to be ready to conjure up imaginary terrors.
By what I then thought to be great good luck I had succeeded in getting a three-berth cabin for myself and my little boy alone—Nos. 45, 46, 47—on the starboard side of the ship. There was, of course, nothing about it to distinguish it from the other cabins; and I unpacked my boxes without the faintest suspicion of what was to happen to me before I left it. In order to escape the quarantine I had started from Gravesend, and found that the Bay of Biscay was exceedingly rough. As a precautionary measure I remained in my berth; and with some difficulty persuaded Robbie to do the same. On the second day, about noon, I was almost asleep when I heard the child's voice apparently talking to someone: "Who is 'oo? What's 'oo name?"
