“Sit down, father,” she urged.  “Sit down, and rest.  Please do!”

The old light keeper’s fiery rage seemed to be abating.  He passed his hand across his forehead several times and his expression changed.  He looked like one awakening from a bad dream.

“I—­I cal’late I will set down for a minute or so, Lulie,” he faltered.  “I do feel sort of tired, somehow or ’nother.  I don’t want to talk any more, Mr. Bangs,” he added, wearily.  “I—­I’ll have to think it all out.  Lulie, I cal’late they’d better go home.  Tell ’em all to go.  I’m tired.”

Martha Phipps passed from group to group whispering.

“I guess we’d better go,” she suggested.  “He’s pretty well worn out, I’m afraid.  Everybody’s things are there in the dinin’ room or in the side entry.  We’d better go right away, it seems to me.”

Galusha had gotten his “things” already, his coat was over his arm.  The others followed his example.  A few minutes more and the last of the “ghost seiners” had left the house and were climbing into the automobiles in the yard.  Marietta Hoag’s voice was the last distinctly audible.

“I can’t help it,” she wailed.  “It wasn’t my fault anyway.  And—­ and, besides, that Bangs man hadn’t any right to say ’twas him I meant. . . .  I mean the control meant.  It wasn’t him at all. . . .  I mean I don’t believe ’twas.  Oh, dear!  I wish you’d stop askin’ questions, Abe Hardin’.  Can’t you stop?”

Galusha and Primmie set out for the Phipps’ homestead ahead of its owner, but she caught up with them at the gate.

“He’s goin’ right up to bed,” she said.  “Zach will look out for the light to-night.”

“And—­” asked Galusha, with significant emphasis.

Martha did not reply.  She waited until they were in the sitting room and alone, Primmie having been sentenced to go to her own room and to bed.  Miss Cash had no desire for bed; her dearest wish was to remain with her mistress and their lodger and unload her burden of conversation.

“My savin’ soul!” she began.  “My savin’ soul!  Did you ever in your born days!  When that Marietta Hoag—­or that Chinee critter—­ or Cap’n Jeth’s ghost’s wife—­or whoever ‘twas talkin’ that spirit jabber—­when she—­them, I mean—­give out that a small, dark man was right there in that house, I thought—­”

“Primmie, go to bed.”

“Yes’m.  And when I remembered that Nelse Howard was—­”

“Go to bed this minute!”

“Yes’m.  But how do you ‘spose he’s goin’ to—­”

Miss Phipps conducted her to the foot of the back stairs and, returning, closed each door she passed through behind her.  Then she answered her lodger’s unspoken question.

“Lulie will go with her father and help him up to his room,” she said.  “After he is out of the way Nelson can come out and Zach, I suppose, will let him out by the side door.”

Galusha smiled faintly.  “The poor fellow must have been somewhat disturbed when that—­ah—­medium person announced that the ’evil influence’ was in the house,” he observed.