Page:Sylvester Sound the Somnambulist (1844).djvu/341

"You had better, I think, go to bed, my dear," said Legge, who perceived that his spouse was excited—"you had better go to bed: I shall be with you shortly."

"I shall not go till you go," replied Mrs. Legge; "and I think it's time for all married men to be at home."

"Let us have some more brandy-and-water," said Quocks, who invariably, when he received a hint of that description, stopped an hour longer, at least. "Suppose," he added, "we have glasses round?"

"What do you want any more for?" inquired Mrs. Legge.

"Oh, we must have another glass apiece."

"I sha'n't draw any more. Legge may do as he likes; but, if I was him, not another drop should be drank in this house to-night, if I knew it."

"Now then, Legge! Come, where's this glass? Now, gentlemen, give your orders."

"I must go," said Pokey.

"Nonsense, man. What, go alone? The ghost is safe to chaw you up. Wait till I go, and then you'll be safe. Come, order another glass like a man."

Pokey, who didn't like to go alone, ordered another glass; and so did Obadiah, and so did Bobber, and so did Quocks; and Legge attended to their orders, while Mrs. Legge intimated plainly that she thought him a fool.

Legge, however, took no notice of this. He was used to it. There was, therefore, no novelty whatever about it. He replenished their glasses, and took their money, and then philosophically filled another pipe.

He had, however, no sooner done so, than they again heard a knocking at the door: not the same description of knocking—no, but a knocking which clearly intimated that he who knocked really meant it.

"Shall I go?" said Legge, doubtfully.

"Certainly not," cried Mrs. Legge. "No."

"Oh, go," said Obadiah. "Only don't let him in."

"Why not?" demanded Pokey. "You say if he's a ghost he can get in without you; and if he isn't, you should very much like to catch him: why, then, should he not be let in?"

"Who's there?" cried Legge, on approaching the door.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, let me in—oh, pray let me in!" replied the man who had knocked.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a traveller—a poor traveller. But pray let me in."

"Oh, let him in," said Quocks. "If he means any nonsense, we are more than a match for him. Let him in, Legge."

"I'll not have him here," cried Mrs. Legge. "Keep the door closed: I'll not have him here."

But before the last words had been uttered, the door was opened, and in rushed a poor man, with cheeks blanched with terror, exclaiming―

"A ghost—a ghost!"