When they had gotten well away from the factory, Billy recovered his wits sufficiently to thank Mr. Gas warmly for his assistance.

"You are welcome, Billy Bounce—it was lots of fun for me and I needed an outing anyway."

"But how did you know about my need?" said Billy. "I tried to send Umberufen and Gehsundheit, but could get neither of them to go."

"The wireless telephoneless telephone brought me your wish. I came very near answering, but you didn't hold the wireless wire, and I thought it would be more exciting to save you at the last minute, the way they always do in books."

"I'm afraid—" began Billy.

"Don't do it," interrupted Mr. Gas.

"What?"

"Be afraid."

"But I meant to say I was afraid—" he began again.

"You did say it—you didn't just mean to say it," said Mr. Gas severely.

"Well, what I meant was that I didn't think Gehsundheit and Umberufen have been of much use to me."

"That's better—never use the word afraid, because there's nothing in the world to be afraid of if you do your best."

"I'll remember that, sir," answered Billy.

"About Gehsundheit and Umberufen—they are not very useful, it's true, but the two old fellows have been out of work for so long that I hire them out of charity."

"I suppose they mean well."

"Oh! yes; but be careful of well meaners unless they are good doers—that's what counts."

"Yes, sir," said Billy.

"And now good-by—keep your teeth clean and don't eat any dirt."

"Of course not, I never do eat dirt."

"I know you don't, but it is my rule to give advice that can be easily followed—that's the way I keep my friends. Good-by."

"Good-by, and thank you," called Billy, and in less than half a jiffy Mr. Gas and his toy balloons were only a speck on the horizon.

When Billy again reached the earth it was night. He had just taken Barker out of his pocket and was going to dig a hole for the Singing Tree, when he saw that he was in a great shadowy city.

"That's strange," he said, looking about him. "I was sure that I was in the middle of a green meadow when I first came down and here I am in a city."

And yet when he looked again he found that he could see clear through the houses. This made him just a wee bit nervous.

"Ah! here comes some one with a lantern; I'll ask him about it." And sure enough there came bobbing and dancing up the street a ball of light. "He's an awfully unsteady walker, whoever he is," said Billy. For one minute the light would be way up in the air and the next minute almost touching the ground—then it would be on one side of the walk and again on the other. On it came until it was within a few inches of his nose and then he saw that no one was carrying it.

Gracious! what a start it gave him—for a moment only and then he was off after it in hot pursuit. But the faster Billy walked the faster the light went—when he ran it ran—and suddenly "puff!" it disappeared.

"Huh! I don't like that a little bit," and he stopped and looked around him.

The moon cast a pale and sickly light, and the gaunt trees waved and creaked sadly in the moaning breeze, throwing long, claw-like shadows on the ground. Then a sad-voiced bird piped out from the forest, "Whip-poor-will—whip-poor-will—whip-poor-will-o'-the-wisp."

"That's what it was, of course," said Billy, sturdily sticking his fists into his pockets—"a will-o'-the-wisp." And back he trudged whistling as hard as he could whistle. Because whistling does keep a fellow's courage up on a lonely walk, doesn't it?

It certainly cheered Billy a great deal, so that when he got back to the place he had lately left he was laughing at his fears.

And then the moon went under a cloud.

"Goodness! it's dark," he said half aloud.

"Isn't it though?" whispered a voice right behind him.

If Billy had been a wax figure on a pivot he could not have turned around quicker than he did—and then when he had turned he was sorry that he had, for looking into his face was a great, white flabby head on a long, wavery body. It did not seem to have any eyes, and yet Billy felt them looking into his. It did not seem to have any mouth, and yet Billy had heard it speak.

"Wha-wha-what d-did you say?" he asked in a quavering voice; and he distinctly felt each separate hair on his head grow stiff as a poker and his cap rise a couple of inches from his crown.

"I said it was dark. What's the matter, do you stammer?"

"N-not usually," said Billy, trying to set his teeth and stop the tune they were chattering.

"Then I wish you'd stop—it's very annoying," said the figure, chuckling to himself.

By a great effort Billy got his lower jaw under control and said:

"Who are you? Your manner is familiar, but I don't recognize your face."

"Oh! I'm a Ghost."

"A Ghost!" exclaimed Billy, stepping back.

"Yes—I've met you lots of times," said the Ghost.

"Who were you when—when you were alive? Perhaps if you'd mention the name," and Billy tried to recollect some of his former friends.

"I am alive, though goodness knows if times keep up the way they're going now I can't tell how soon I'll starve to death."

"Starve to death?"

"Yes; times have changed in the last four hundred years. Why, I remember years ago we ghosts were busy on haunting jobs night after night, but now we have to scratch pretty hard for a living."

"But where have you met me?" asked Billy.

"On your way to bed when the nurse had been telling you silly tales—come, we're old friends, let's shake hands."

"Can—can you shake hands?" said Billy, putting his own behind him.

"Certainly. Of course I can't shake your hand, but I can shake my own," and with that the Ghost held two long white arms in front of him, joined the ends (one really couldn't call them hands) and waved them up and down.

Much relieved, Billy clasped his own two hands and feebly shook them—and my, how cold and clammy they felt!

"Well, good-by, I must be going," said Billy nervously.

"Don't go yet—let's talk over old times. And by the way, you don't happen to know a quiet family, keeping two servants, no children preferred, who wants to hire a respectable ghost. Thoroughly tame—will eat out of the hand—terms reasonable and references exchanged. Guaranteed to give satisfaction or money returned. If desired can take the shape of an old ancestor. Guarding buried treasure extra." And the Ghost rattled this off as if he had learned it by heart.

"No," said Billy, "I really do not—in fact, I'm sure I don't."

"Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening."—Page 217.