The Century illustrated monthly magazine . with hishands and laughed. Why, man, he cried, that tall silk hat has blown forty miles acrosscountry by this time! The butcher looked at him severely. Thatsall right! he said. I should like to knowhow it could get out of this yard with such ahigh fence and no gate open. I dont beheveit s raining, anyway; so you may feel sure,maam, that the sandpiper is comfortable. At this moment there was a little noise atone of the windows, and, turning my eyes inthat direction, I saw the lower sash raised acouple of inches. I was about to spring to-wards the windo
The Century illustrated monthly magazine . with hishands and laughed. Why, man, he cried, that tall silk hat has blown forty miles acrosscountry by this time! The butcher looked at him severely. Thatsall right! he said. I should like to knowhow it could get out of this yard with such ahigh fence and no gate open. I dont beheveit s raining, anyway; so you may feel sure,maam, that the sandpiper is comfortable. At this moment there was a little noise atone of the windows, and, turning my eyes inthat direction, I saw the lower sash raised acouple of inches. I was about to spring to-wards the window when Doris, who had fol-lowed my glance, caught me by the coat. Instandy we all rose to our feet, and as welooked at the window, beyond which we couldsee nothing, something like a young moonbegan to protrude itself through the openingunder the sash. In a moment the lunar ap-parition had greatly increased in size andwas a half-moon. Dolor Tripp now made a quick step forward. Keep back, all of you, she said. I know THE MERRY CHANTER. 425. THE PIE GHOST. what it is. And going to the window she tookhold of the moon, and, drawing it into the room,she held it up to us in all the glory of its fullness. A pumpkin pie! exclaimed Doris. We gathered about it. It was of the largestsize and as yellow as gold. Oh, delicious !cried Doris. Somebody get a knife. But where did it come from ? I asked. From the ghost, of course, replied DolorTripp. That is one of its ways. It leavespies about. Several times when it has lockedme into a room I ve just waited quietly untilI found the door unfastened, and there outside,just where I would nt step into it, there wouldbe a little pie. A lovely ghost! cried Lord Crabstairs. I am converted. I believe in him. But thisis nt a pie, its a tart. Pies are made of meat. No, they are not, said the butcher; atleast, not punkin pies. I should think I oughtto know what things are made of meat. And I ought to know what things are madeof fruits and vegetables, retort
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