enter freely into Mr. Durdles's circulation, while Mr. Jasper only rinses his month once, and casts forth the rinsing.
They are to ascend the great Tower. On the steps by which they rise to the Cathedral, Durdles pauses for new store of breath. The steps are very dark, but out of the darkness they can see the lanes of light they have traversed. Dnrdles seats himself upon a step. Mr. Jasper seats himself upon another. The odour from the wicker bottle (which has somehow passed into Durdles's keeping), soon intimates that the cork has been taken out; but this is not ascertainable through the sense of sight, since neither can descry the other. And yet, in talking, they turn to one another, asthough their faces could commune together.
"This is good stuff, Mister Jarsper!"
"It is very good stuff, I hope. I bought it on purpose."
"They don't show, you see, the old uns don't, Mister Jarsper!"
"It would be a more confused world than it is, if they could."
"Well, it would lead towards a mixing of things," Durdles acquiesces: pausing on the remark, as if the idea of ghosts had not previously presented itself to him in a merely inconvenient light, domestically, or chronologically. "But do you think there may be Ghosts of other things, though not of men and women?"
"What things? Flower-beds and watering-pots? Horses and harness?"
"No. Sounds."
"What sounds?"
"Cries."
"What cries do you mean? Chairs to mend?"
"No. I mean screeches. Now, I'll tell you, Mister Jarsper. Wait a bit till I put the bottle right." Here the cork is. evidently taken out again, and replaced again. "There! Now it's right! This time last year, only a few days later, I happened to have been doing what was correct by the season, in the way of giving it the welcome it had a right to expect, when them town-boys set on me at their worst. At length I gave 'em the slip, and turned in here. And here I fell asleep. And what woke me? The ghost of a cry. The ghost of one terrific shriek, which shriek was followed by the ghost of the howl of a dog: a long dismal woeful howl, such as a dog gives when a person's dead. That was my last Christmas Eve."
"What do you mean?" is the very abrupt, and, one might say, fierce retort.
"I mean that I made inquiries everywhere about, and that no living ears but mine heard either that cry or that howl. So I say they was both ghosts; though why they came to me, I've never made out."
"I thought you were another kind of man," says Jasper, scornfully.
"So I thought, myself," answers Durdles with his usual composure; "and yet I was picked out for it."
Jasper had risen suddenly, when he asked him what he meant, and he now says, "Come; we shall freeze here; lead the way."
Durdles complies, not over-steadily; opens the door at the top
