forget where, and she will not return until to-morrow;" then, uneasily, "I—I beg pardon, but you—you mentioned the Invisible. Do you—I beg pardon—but do you converse as much as ever with him?"
"Yes indeed!" Nattie replied with an ardor that did not produce exactly an enlivening effect upon her caller; "we talk together nearly all the time."
"What—I beg pardon—but really—what do you find to talk about so much?" he inquired jealously.
"Oh, everything! of the books we read, and the good things in the magazines and papers, and the adventures we have—telegraphically; in short, of all the topics of the day. We agree very well too, except on candy, that I like and he doesn't," replied Nattie.
Quimby suppressed a groan, and hastened to assure her that he himself possessed a great passion for sweetmeets.
"But don't you—I beg pardon—but don't you find this sort of thing—'C,' I mean—ghostly, you know?"
"Ghostly!" echoed the astonished Nattie.
"Yes," he replied, with a gesture of his arm that produced an impression as if that member had leaped out of its socket. "Yes, talking with the unseen, you know; I—I beg pardon, but it strikes me as ghostly."
