Bill hammered and stammered, and stopped short.
The doctor was such a tall, stout, comfortable-looking man, he looked as if he couldn't believe in ghosts.

A slight frown, however, had come over his comfortable face, and he laid two fingers on Bill's wrist as he repeated his question.
"Please, sir," said Bill, "I've seen--" "A mad dog ?" suggested the doctor.
"No, sir." "A mad bull ?" "No, sir," said Bill, desperately, "I've seen a ghost." The doctor exploded into a fit of laughter, and looked more comfortable than ever.
"And _where_ did we see the ghost ?" he inquired, in a professional voice, as he took up his coat-tails and warmed himself at the fire.
"In Yew-lane, sir; and I'm sure I did see it," said Bill, half crying; "it was all in white, and beckoned me." "That's to say you saw a white gravestone, or a tree in the moonlight, or one of your classmates dressed up in a table-cloth.

It was all moonshine, depend upon it," said the doctor, with a chuckle at his own joke; "take my advice, my boy, and don't give way to foolish fancies." At this point the mother spoke-- "If his father knew, sir, as he'd got any such fads in his head, he'd soon flog 'em out of him." "His father is a very good one," said the doctor; "a little too fond of the stick, perhaps.

There," he added, good-naturedly, slipping sixpence into Bill's hand, "get a new knife, my boy, and cut a good thick stick, and the next ghost you meet, lay hold of him and let him taste it." Bill tried to thank him, but somehow his voice was choked, and the doctor turned to his mother.
"The boy has been frightened," he said, "and is upset.

Give him some supper, and put him to bed." And the good gentleman departed.
Bill was duly feasted and sent to rest.