"What's what?—what do you mean?" demanded Snorkins.
"Look there!" returned Pokey, with vehemence, pointing to a tall, white figure, which appeared to be contemplating the tombs.
And they did look there: and on the instant terror seized them. Two ran back to the Crumpet and Crown, and the rate at which they ran surpassed everything on record in the annals of running; but the rest didn't run, because they couldn't. They stood, as if struck with paralysis; they were as pale as any spectre could hope to be; and while their hearts ceased to perform their natural functions, and their quivering lips were livid with fear, their knees smote each other with a species of violence altogether unexampled. Well, what was to be done? There it was: a real, regular ghost! There was no mistake about it: there couldn't exist two opinions on the subject; but what was to be done? Should they run?—they couldn't. Should they call out?—they couldn't. Well, were they to stop there and watch till it vanished? They didn't at all like to do so, but what else could they do? Nothing. There they remained, and while they were there, in a state of speechless terror, Obadiah Drant, being a valiant man, on hearing the facts of the case stated by Bobber and Quocks, who had run back so bravely to the Crumpet and Crown, seized a carving-knife which lay near a huge round of beef, and while flourishing it boldly declared, with that vehemence for which he was distinguished, that as he cared no more for a ghost than he did for Bobby Peel, he'd go at once and "settle the swell!" which really was a very irreverent expression, and therefore extremely incorrect. But, seeing such valour displayed, Legge, the landlord, who had never seen a ghost, but who had a great desire to see one, did offer to accompany Obadiah Drant, and, despite the remonstrances of Mrs. Legge, actually quitted the house with him, leaving Bobber and Quocks to fill Mrs. Legge's mind with all sorts of horrors.
Legge, however, on reaching the churchyard, perceived that Obadiah somewhat relaxed, and, on mentioning this with all the delicacy of which he was capable, Obadiah pronounced this opinion:—That as spectres were "not sensible to feeling as to sight," it would not be at all a fair match. Still—with an assumption of valour, which was, in reality, a stranger to his heart—he went on: but he had no sooner reached the spot on which his friends stood, and beheld the white figure distinctly before him, than the carving-knife dropped, and he fell upon his knees, which would not then allow him to stand.
But Legge, who assumed nothing, was comparatively calm. He saw the figure and believed it to be a spirit, and therefore his heart did not beat with its wonted regularity, still, compared with the rest, he was tranquil and firm, he even proposed to approach the "spirit," and to ascertain, if possible, why it had appeared; but not one would accompany him—not one could accompany him—and, having at home a wife and five children, he didn't think it would be exactly prudent for him to go alone.
"But come, come!" said he, "we have nothing to fear. We have murdered no one, robbed no one, injured no one—why should we fear? It will not harm us. It may have something to communicate—some
