The Ghost of Guir House

She was off before he had time to answer, leaving him standing by the

roadside, waiting for the promised coach. It was not long before the

rumbling of a heavy vehicle was heard, and but a few minutes more

when an antiquated stage with four scrubby horses emerged from the

shadow of a giant oak into the open moonlight, scarce fifty yards

away. Mr. Henley hailed the driver, who stopped, and looked at him as

if frightened. The man was a Negro, and, when convinced that it was

nothing more terrible than a human being who had accosted him, smiled

generously and invited him to a seat on the box.

"I 'lowed yer was a hant" observed the man, by way of opening the

conversation, when Paul had handed up his bags and taken his place on

top. Henley lighted a cigar, and the cumbersome old vehicle moved

slowly forward.

Their way now lay through a beautiful valley, beside a picturesque

stream, tunneling its course through wild ivy and magnificent banks

of calmia, and under the wide spreading limbs of pines and hemlocks.

The country appeared to be a wilderness, and Paul could not help

feeling that the real world of flesh and ambition lay upon the other

side of the ridge, now far behind. The night was superb, but the road

rough, so that the horses seldom went out of a walk. Presently the

driver drew up his animals for water, and Henley took the opportunity

to question him.

"Do you know these Guirs where I am going?" he inquired.

The man paused in the act of dipping a pail of water, and seemed

puzzled. Thinking he had not understood, Paul repeated the question,

when the man dropped the bucket, and staring at him with a look of

horror, said: "Boss, is you uns in airnest?"

Henley laughed, and told him that he thought he was, adding that Miss

Guir was a friend of his.

"Now I knows you uns is jokin', 'case dey ain't got no friends in dis

'ere country."

"But I am a stranger!" argued Paul.

"Well, sah, it ain't for de likes o' me to argify wid you uns, but ef

you wants to know whar de house is, I kin show it to you; leastways I

kin show you de road to git dar."

"That's it; but tell me, don't the people about here like the Guirs?"

"Boss, ef dey's frens o' yourn, I reckon you knows all about 'em;

maybe more'n I kin tell you, and I reckon it's saiftest for me to

keep my mouf shet tight!"