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Yule is the tide of specters; for then the thoughts of the world are so beautiful that they enter our dreams and call us back." He turned to go, and a boyish, friendly smile rested a moment on his pale face. "Farewell, Sir Geoffray de Pierrepont," he called to me. Into the misty moonlight the ghost floated to that portion of the wall directly opposite the haunted room.
"What on earth is the name of the ghost?" "When he was alive his name was Sir Geoffray de Pierrepont," said Thaddeus Hobson, his figure fading into the dimness beyond. I followed the servant with the candle aloft through chill and carven corridors, through galleries lined with faded portraits of forgotten lords. "Wheels!" I kept saying to myself.
They say it's a wonderful old pile; and its history is in many ways connected with that of our own family. As long as you're the last of the Geoffray Pierreponts, such things ought to interest you." Like her auburn namesake who bossed the Thames of yore, sweet, red-haired, romantic autocrat, Aunt Elizabeth! Her wishes were commands. "What the deuce is Aunt Elizabeth up to now?"
He looked dyspeptic and discontented, like a practical man trying vainly to adjust his busy habits to a lazy life. Obviously he didn't go with the rest of the furniture. "Pleased to see you, Mr. Pierrepont," he said, looking me over carefully as if he thought of buying me. "Geoffray Pierrepont tut, tut! ain't it queer!" "Queer!" I said rather peevishly. "What's queer about it?"
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