"Yawning and wondering an evening through,
I watch alone . . . and chatterings, of course,
Spoil the one scene which, somehow, _did_ have charms;
You wept a bit, and I grew sad for you
Right here! Where Mr. X defends divorce
And What's-Her-Name falls fainting in his arms."
* * * *
STILL CALM
"Ghosts are such dumb things," said Alec, "they're slow-witted. I can
always outguess a ghost."
"How?" asked Tom.
"Well, it depends where. Take a bedroom, for example. If you use _any_
discretion a ghost can never get you in a bedroom."
"Go on, s'pose you think there's maybe a ghost in your bedroom--what
measures do you take on getting home at night?" demanded Amory,
interested.
"Take a stick" answered Alec, with ponderous reverence, "one about the
length of a broom-handle. Now, the first thing to do is to get the room
_cleared_--to do this you rush with your eyes closed into your study and
turn on the lights--next, approaching the closet, carefully run the stick
in the door three or four times. Then, if nothing happens, you can look
in.
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