"'Infamous' would describe them better," growled the Headless Horseman. He was sitting near me at the time, but as his head was lying on a window-seat across the room, the voice came from there, and the effect was extremely weird. Tomlinson's principal claim was also on his author's reputation, and Marley's Ghost sagaciously opined that "after a hundred years he, too, perhaps—" Most of the ghosts were slow of thought and deliberate of speech, and the consequence was that they hadn't begun to organize their club, but were still mulling over the question of "What makes one famous? " when I heard footsteps in the room above, and knew that Gertrude had arisen.
Then I heard other footsteps of a childish, pattering nature, and I realized that my son and heir was already awake and would soon descend. Here was a predicament. If Gertrude or Baby Frederick should see these ghostly visitors they would faint and yell respectively. But how could I induce the club to adjourn?
I explained my difficulty to the Ghost of Queen Anne, who, being a woman, might have sympathy for Gertrude and the child.
But she only said, with an air of finality:
"Ghosts never depart until cockcrow."
At this I was in despair, for, as I have said, there were no cocks at Beachhurst. The situation was desperate. Already I could hear Gertrude and little Frederick on the stairs.
I thought of appealing to the Ghost of Hamlet's Father, but he was in the midst of a resounding speech in blank verse, and I felt sure he would not even notice me. Marley's Ghost was talking to the Skeleton in Armor, and by the clanking chains and the rattling bones I knew they were having a fierce argument, and I could not hope to gain their attention. The footsteps sounded farther down the stairs.
In despair I cast my eyes about, and saw a mechanical rooster. With a sudden inspiration I seized the toy and wound it up, and a loud and very natural crow was the result.
There was a swishing sound, a final clanking and rattling, and in an instant every ghost had disappeared.
