You must have heard the muslin bags of seed blowing about, if you heard anything." "I heard a footstep," said Ellen firmly; "a human footstep.

I told you the house was haunted, Mrs.Tadman." "Lor, Miss Carley, I wish you wouldn't say such things; it's enough to make one's blood turn cold.

Do come downstairs and have a cup of tea.
It's quite dark, I declare; and you've given me the shivers with your queer talk." "I'm sorry for that; but the noise I heard must have been either real or ghostly, and you won't believe it's real." "It was the seed-bags, of course." "They couldn't make a noise like human footsteps.

However, it's no business of mine, Mrs.Tadman, and I don't want to frighten you." They went downstairs to the parlour, where the tea-tray and a pair of candles were soon brought, and where Mrs.Tadman stirred the fire into a blaze with an indifference to the consumption of fuel which made her kinsman stare, even on that hospitable occasion.

The blaze made the dark wainscoted room cheerful of aspect, however, which the two candles could not have done, as their light was almost absorbed by the gloomy panelling.
After tea there was whist again, and a considerable consumption of spirits-and-water on the part of the two gentlemen, in which Mrs.Tadman joined modestly, with many protestations, and, with the air of taking only an occasional spoonful, contrived to empty her tumbler, and allowed herself to be persuaded to take another by the bailiff, whose joviality on the occasion was inexhaustible.
The day's entertainment came to an end at last, to Ellen's inexpressible relief; and her father drove her home in the yellow gig at rather an alarming pace, and with some tendency towards heeling over into a ditch.
They got over the brief journey safely, however, and Mr.Carley was still in high good humour.