“That’s just what I’m coming to,” said Uncle Larry, pausing at the critical moment, in the manner of the trained story teller.  “You see, Eliphalet had got a rather tough job, and he would gladly have had an extension of time on the contract, but he had to choose between the girl and the ghosts, and he wanted the girl.  He tried to invent or remember some short and easy way with ghosts, but he couldn’t.  He wished that somebody had invented a specific for spooks—­something that would make the ghosts come out of the house and die in the yard.  He wondered if he could not tempt the ghosts to run in debt, so that he might get the sheriff to help him.  He wondered also whether the ghosts could not be overcome with strong drink—­a dissipated spook, a spook with delirium tremens, might be committed to the inebriate asylum.  But none of these things seemed feasible.”

“What did he do?” interrupted Dear Jones.  “The learned counsel will please speak to the point.”

“You will regret this unseemly haste,” said Uncle Larry, gravely, “when you know what really happened.”

“What was it, Uncle Larry?” asked Baby Van Rensselaer.  “I’m all impatience.”

And Uncle Larry proceeded: 

“Eliphalet went down to the little old house at Salem, and as soon as the clock struck twelve the rival ghosts began wrangling as before.  Raps here, there, and everywhere, ringing bells, banging tambourines, strumming banjos sailing about the room, and all the other manifestations and materializations followed one another just as they had the summer before.  The only difference Eliphalet could detect was a stronger flavor in the spectral profanity; and this, of course, was only a vague impression, for he did not actually hear a single word.  He waited awhile in patience, listening and watching.  Of course he never saw either of the ghosts, because neither of them could appear to him.  At last he got his dander up, and he thought it was about time to interfere, so he rapped on the table, and asked for silence.  As soon as he felt that the spooks were listening to him he explained the situation to them.  He told them he was in love, and that he could not marry unless they vacated the house.  He appealed to them as old friends, and he laid claim to their gratitude.  The titular ghost had been sheltered by the Duncan family for hundreds of years, and the domiciliary ghost had had free lodging in the little old house at Salem for nearly two centuries.  He implored them to settle their differences, and to get him out of his difficulty at once.  He suggested they’d better fight it out then and there, and see who was master.  He had brought down with him all needful weapons.  And he pulled out his valise, and spread on the table a pair of navy revolvers, a pair of shot-guns, a pair of dueling swords, and a couple of bowie-knives.  He offered to serve as second for both parties, and to give the word when to begin.  He also took out of his valise a pack of cards and a bottle of poison,