Harry Peters had to cross the common one evening in the dark, and,
though his father had sent him to post a letter, he could not get on,
for he saw a ghost, as he fancied, in the garden near the lane, and his
hair stood almost on end. There it was, rising white and spectral before
him with outstretched, slowly moving arms. Harry uttered a piercing
shriek, for the boys at school had told him some dreadful ghost stories,
and he quite expected to be carried off by those ghostly beckoning arms.
His father was very vexed that he had lost the post, and would not
believe he had seen a ghost.
"There are no such things," he said; "light the lantern and we'll drive
your ghost away. Some silly boy has been frightening you."
Harry's big brother declared he would pay the boy out for shamming
ghosthood, and so the three went together, followed by the dog, barking
loudly.
And what do you think Harry's ghost turned out to be? The white shirt
belonging to the cobbler, which his wife had hung up to dry in their
back garden.
Harry has left off believing in ghosts now; and if ever he sees one
again, he intends to go right up to it, and find out all about it,
instead of running away.
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