“I’ll try to answer everything at once,” said Mrs. Bellmore, heroically, “although I’m frightfully hungry.  Something awakened me—­I’m not sure whether it was a noise or a touch—­and there stood the phantom.  I never burn a light at night, so the room was quite dark, but I saw it plainly.  I wasn’t dreaming.  It was a tall man, all misty white from head to foot.  It wore the full dress of the old Colonial days—­powdered hair, baggy coat skirts, lace ruffles, and a sword.  It looked intangible and luminous in the dark, and moved without a sound.  Yes, I was a little frightened at first—­or startled, I should say.  It was the first ghost I had ever seen.  No, it didn’t say anything.  I didn’t scream.  I raised up on my elbow, and then it glided silently away, and disappeared when it reached the door.”

Mrs. Kinsolving was in the seventh heaven.  “The description is that of Captain Kinsolving, of General Greene’s army, one of our ancestors,” she said, in a voice that trembled with pride and relief.  “I really think I must apologize for our ghostly relative, Mrs. Bellmore.  I am afraid he must have badly disturbed your rest.”

Terence sent a smile of pleased congratulation toward his mother.  Attainment was Mrs. Kinsolving’s, at last, and he loved to see her happy.

“I suppose I ought to be ashamed to confess,” said Mrs. Bellmore, who was now enjoying her breakfast, “that I wasn’t very much disturbed.  I presume it would have been the customary thing to scream and faint, and have all of you running about in picturesque costumes.  But, after the first alarm was over, I really couldn’t work myself up to a panic.  The ghost retired from the stage quietly and peacefully, after doing its little turn, and I went to sleep again.”

Nearly all listened, politely accepted Mrs. Bellmore s story as a made-up affair, charitably offered as an offset to the unkind vision seen by Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins.  But one or two present perceived that her assertions bore the genuine stamp of her own convictions.  Truth and candour seemed to attend upon every word.  Even a scoffer at ghosts—­if he were very observant—­would have been forced to admit that she had, at least in a very vivid dream, been honestly aware of the weird visitor.’

Soon Mrs. Bellmore’s maid was packing.  In two hours the auto would come to convey her to the station.  As Terence was strolling upon the east piazza, Mrs. Bellmore came up to him, with a confidential sparkle in her eye.

“I didn’t wish to tell the others all of it,” she said, “but I will tell you.  In a way, I think you should be held responsible.  Can you guess in what manner that ghost awakened me last night?”

“Rattled chains,” suggested Terence, after some thought, “or groaned?  They usually do one or the other.”

“Do you happen to know,” continued Mrs. Bellmore, with sudden irrelevancy, “if I resemble any one of the female relatives of your restless ancestor, Captain Kinsolving?”