light in the large, low-pitched hall, with its hard mahogany sofa, and the walls ornamented with riding-whips and old spurs. A tall and stalwart figure stood before the door, and a voice out of the darkness asked:
"Is this the house of Mr. Archibald Corbin, and is he at home?"
The sound of that voice seemed to paralyze Dad Davy.
"Lord A'mighty," he gasped, "'t is Marse Archy's voice. Look a heah, is you—is you a ha'nt?"[1]
"A what?"
But without waiting for an answer Dad Davy scurried off for a moment and returned with a tallow candle in a tall silver candlestick. As he appeared, shading the candle with one dusky hand, and rolling two great eyeballs at the newcomer, he was handed a visiting card. This further mystified him, as he had never seen such an implement in his life before; he gazed with a fixed and frightened gaze at the young man before him, and his skin gradually turned the ashy hue that terror produces in a negro.
"Hi, hi," he spluttered, "you is de spit and
- ↑ A ghost.
