"Well, boys, I've got just the biggest thing out. Ef I hadn't seed
it myself, I wouldn't hev believed it!"
"It ain't thet ghost ag'in?" growled Robinson, from the depths of
his arm-chair; "thet ghost's about played."
"Wot ghost?" asked a new-comer.
"Why, ole Mammy's ghost, that every feller about yer sees when he's
half full and out late o' nights."
"Where?"
"Where? Why, where should a ghost be? Meanderin' round her grave
on the hill, yander, in course."
"It's suthin bigger nor thet, pard," said Dick confidently; "no
ghost kin rake down the pot ag'in the keerds I've got here. This
ain't no bluff!"
"Well, go on!" said a dozen excited voices.
Dick paused a moment, diffidently, with the hesitation of an
artistic raconteur.
"Well," he said, with affected deliberation, "let's see! It's nigh
onto an hour ago ez I was down thar at the variety show. When the
curtain was down betwixt the ax, I looks round fer Daddy. No Daddy
thar! I goes out and asks some o' the boys. 'Daddy WAS there a
minnit ago,' they say; 'must hev gone home.
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