SCENE I.—_MRS. LAWRENCE’S parlor. MRS. L., R., FLORA, C., and

MR. PERCIVAL, L., present._

FLORA. Oh, yes, mother believes in ghosts, and haunted houses, and all those things, and I suppose that, as a dutiful daughter, I ought to do the same; but I haven’t very much faith in them.

MR. PERCIVAL. Perhaps, if you had had any experience in that direction, you might feel differently about the matter. I never believed in haunted houses till I visited Charlie Baldwin, my former chum, last summer.

F. Do tell us all about it. I should like to hear a real nice ghost story.

MRS. LAWRENCE. I think we’d better wait till daylight before listening to a story of that character.

F. No, it’s just the time for it; it is cold and dark outside. We can more easily imagine the events real. So go on, please, Mr. Percival.

MR. P.—But my story is not a ghost story at all, and there is really very little to tell. But we heard strange noises for which we could not account. For instance, a door, which led from the house into the shed, had swollen so that it was difficult to shut it, and whenever it was opened and shut it creaked most musically, so that it could be heard in all the lower rooms. One evening we were seated at the tea-table, when we heard the door creaking. “Who is that coming in?” asked Mrs. Baldwin. “It is very strange,” answered Charlie; “I am sure I closed and locked that door not ten minutes ago.”—“Suppose we go out and see what it is,” said Mr. Baldwin. “It certainly had a natural sound.” We all went out in a body, and behold! the door was shut and fastened and everything all right.

F. (_interested_). Did you hear any other noises while you were there?

MR. P. Oh, yes, we frequently heard footsteps going up and down stairs after we had gone to bed. Sometimes we could hear the chairs moved about in the rooms below. And once, I remember, we heard a terrific noise, as if the side of the house had fallen in. But the next morning everything seemed as usual, and we laughed about the matter.

F. But were you not startled?

MR. P. Well, I cannot say I should like to live in that house long.

MRS. L. If you had heard all these things, Flora, don’t you think you would have faith to believe that there are some strange things which one cannot account for?

F. Oh, yes; “seeing is believing,” as the old saying is, and I suppose _hearing_ is believing also. But I must ask you to excuse me now, Mr. Percival, as I have a letter to write, which must go out by the next mail.

MR. P. Though we are sorry to lose your company, we will grant you leave of absence for a short time. (_Rises and opens the door for her, L. Exit FLORA._)

MR. P. (_sitting down near MRS. L._). The turn which the conversation took just now suggested a plan to me, which, with your permission, I should like to carry out.

MRS. L. What is it?

MR. P. You are, of course, aware that I love your daughter, and would gladly marry her. She has rejected me, but still I think she likes me as well or better than any one else. Now, cannot I, by stratagem, bring her to consent to a marriage with me?

MRS. L. I wish you might do so, and will gladly assist you in any way I can. But what is your plan?

MR. P. I thought I might, with your assistance, personate the spirit of her former husband, and appear to her to-night while this conversation is fresh in her mind, and warn her, if she wishes him to rest in peace, that she must marry a certain Alfred Percival, who will make her a good husband.

MRS. L. It is a capital idea. I think the conversation seemed to affect her considerably. Suppose you come here at ten o’clock to-night. I will remain up, and arrange your ghostship.

MR. P. Very well, I will do so. And I believe I will go now, as I have some preparations to make.

(_Exit MR. PERCIVAL, L. Curtain falls._)