"I would _love_ to have a psychic revelation," she sighed again.
"Yes, dear," murmured Mrs. Brown, mystified. "William, you've had enough."
"_Enough?_" said William, in surprise. "Why I've only had----" He decided hastily against exact statistics and in favour of vague generalities.
"I've only had hardly any," he said, aggrievedly.
"You've had _enough_, anyway," said Mrs. Brown firmly.
The martyr rose, pale but proud.
"Well, can I go then, if I can't have any more tea?"
"There's plenty of bread and butter."
"I don't want bread and butter," he said, scornfully.
"Dear child!" murmured Cousin Mildred, vaguely, as he departed.
He returned to the story and lemonade and apple, and stretched himself happily at full length in the shady barn.
"But the ghostly visitant seemed to be fading away, and with a soft sigh was gone. Our hero, with a start of surprise, realised that he was alone with the gold and the skeleton. For the first time he experienced a thrill of cold fear and slowly retreated up the stairs before the hollow and, as it seemed, vindictive stare of the grinning skeleton."
"I wonder wot he was grinnin' at?" said William.
"But to his horror the door was shut, the panel had slid back. He had no means of opening it. He was imprisoned on a remote part of the castle, where even the servants came but rarely, and at intervals of weeks. Would his fate be that of the man whose bones gleamed white in the moonlight?"
"Crumbs!" said William, earnestly.
Then a shadow fell upon the floor of the barn, and Cousin Mildred's voice greeted him.
"So you're here, dear? I'm just exploring your garden and thinking. I like to be alone. I see that you are the same, dear child!"
"I'm readin'," said William, with icy dignity.
"Dear boy! Won't you come and show me the garden and your favourite nooks and corners?"
William looked at her thin, vague, amiable face, and shut his book with a resigned sigh.
"All right," he said, laconically.
He conducted her in patient silence round the kitchen garden and the shrubbery. She looked sadly at the house, with its red brick, uncompromisingly-modern appearance.
"William, I wish your house was _old_," she said, sadly.
William resented any aspersions on his house from outsiders.
Personally he considered newness in a house an attraction, but, if anyone wished for age, then old his house should be.
"_Old_!" he ejaculated. "Huh! I guess it's _old_ enough."
"Oh, is it?" she said, delighted. "Restored recently, I suppose?"
"Umph," agreed William, nodding.
"Oh, I'm so glad. I may have some psychic revelation here, then?"
"Oh yes," said William, judicially. "I shouldn't wonder."
"William, have you ever had one?"
"Well," said William, guardedly, "I dunno."
His mysterious manner threw her into a transport.
"Of course not to anyone. But to _me_--I'm one of the sympathetic! To me you may speak freely, William."
William, feeling that his ignorance could no longer be hidden by words, maintained a discreet silence.
"To me it shall be sacred, William. I will tell no one--not even your parents. I believe that children see--clouds of glory and all that,"
vaguely. "With your unstained childish vision----"
"I'm eleven," put in William indignantly.
"You see things that to the wise are sealed. Some manifestation, some spirit, some ghostly visitant----"
"Oh," said William, suddenly enlightened, "you talkin' about _ghosts_?"
"Yes, ghosts, William."
Her air of deference flattered him. She evidently expected great things of him. Great things she should have. At the best of times with William imagination was stronger than cold facts.
He gave a short laugh.
"Oh, _ghosts_! Yes, I've seen some of 'em. I guess I _have_!"
Her face lit up.
"Will you tell me some of your experiences, William?" she said, humbly.
"Well," said William, loftily, "you won't go _talkin'_ about it, will you?"
"Oh, _no_."
"Well, I've seen 'em, you know. Chains an' all. And skeletons. And ghostly arms beckonin' an' all that."
William was enjoying himself. He walked with a swagger. He almost believed what he said. She gasped.
"Oh, go on!" she said. "Tell me all."