23.  “Oh, dear! have I hurt them?” she exclaimed.  “No, no,” replied a chorus of many small voices from the drop of water, “we are only water sprites again.  Nothing hurts us; we merely change.”  “But you are always pretty little things,” said Annie.  “I wish—­”

24.  Here a ring at the doorbell woke Annie.  She started up to find the family had returned from their visit, which all declared was a delightful one.  But Annie said she did not believe they had enjoyed their visit better than she had her half hour’s dream.

Definitions.—­1.  Nat’u-ral Phi-los’o-phy, the study which teaches about the laws of matter in nature. 3.  E-vap-o-ra’tion, the act of turning into vapor. 4.  De-gree’, a division of space marked on an instrument such as a thermometer. 8.  Wa’ter sprite, a spirit or fairy living in the water. 10.  Mis’chie-vous-ly, in a teasing manner. 13.  Swarm, to be crowded. 18, Es-caped’, got away, fled.

LXV.  MY GHOST. (178)

By Mrs. S. M. B. Piatt, who was born near Lexington, Ky., in 1836.  Among her published works may be mentioned “The Nests at Washington, and Other Poems,” and “A Woman’s Poems.”

1.  Yes, Katie, I think you are very sweet,
     Now that the tangles are out of your hair,
   And you sing as well as the birds you meet,
     That are playing, like you, in the blossoms there. 
   But now you are coming to kiss me, you say: 
     Well, what is it for?  Shall I tie your shoe? 
   Or loop up your sleeve in a prettier way? 
     “Do I know about ghosts?” Indeed I do.

2.  “Have I seen one?” Yes; last evening, you know,
     We were taking a walk that you had to miss,
   (I think you were naughty, and cried to go,
     But, surely, you’ll stay at home after this!)
   And, away in the twilight, lonesomely,
     ("What is the twilight?” It’s—­getting late!)
   I was thinking of things that were sad to me!—­
     There, hush! you know nothing about them, Kate.

3.  Well, we had to go through the rocky lane,
     Close to that bridge where the water roars,
   By a still, red house, where the dark and rain
     Go in when they will at the open doors. 
   And the moon, that had just waked up, looked through
     The broken old windows, and seemed afraid,
   And the wild bats flew, and the thistles grew
     Where once in the roses the children played.

4.  Just across the road by the cherry trees
     Some fallen white stones had been lying so long,
   Half hid in the grass, and under these
     There were people dead.  I could hear the song
   Of a very sleepy dove as I passed
     The graveyard near, and the cricket that cried;
   And I look’d (ah! the Ghost is coming at last!)
     And something was walking at my side.