"Are you better, now?" said the stranger, laying his hand on Harold's shoulder.  
"Yes, thank you," replied Harold, jerking himself away, while Rupert gave expression to what we all felt and thought.
 
"I wish you'd go about like other people, instead of sneaking up the sides of walls." As he spoke he went to the window. "Uncle George!" he shouted at the top of his voice. An answer came from a distance. "Make haste up here, there's a man who wants to see you."
 
"I pity him if he is in your den," father called out merrily, after about two minutes during which time we had all been perfectly silent, Kathleen and Harold keeping a strict guard over the chest by sitting on it.
 
It seemed to me a fearful time before father's footstep sounded on the stairs. I almost expected to see the stranger bolt out of the window, but he did not. He stood as still as if he had been cut in marble, until the door opened, and father entered with some joke on his lips which was never uttered.
 
The mysterious stranger took his hat from his head, and father gazed at him for one brief second, then held out both his hands.
 
 "FATHER GAZED AT HIM FOR ONE SECOND, THEN HELD OUT BOTH HIS HANDS." 
"FATHER GAZED AT HIM FOR ONE SECOND, THEN HELD OUT
BOTH HIS HANDS."
"What! you, Joe?"
 
"Yes, I, George."
 
The words meant little enough, but the tone spoke volumes, and, to our terrible distress, the stranger dropped on the oak chest and was convulsed with sobs.
 
"Right about face, quick march," whispered Jack, hopping off as well as he could. "Look after the baggage."
 
The baggage meaning me, Rupert and Kathleen seized me with a rapidity which would have terrified me a month back; and in less time than it takes to write, we had made our retreat in disorder, and the enemy were left in possession.
 
"Never no more," said Jack, whom we found resting on one of the landings, "will I pass my days in that den. I shan't have nerve enough to face a cricket-ball when I get back to school. To think that the ghost, the mysterious stranger, the rescuer of my beloved brother, should be called Joe, and be on speaking terms with my uncle! After that, no more mysteries for me. I mean to live in the dining-room, and devote myself to bread and butter."
 
"That's all providing that father will let you," I said.
 
"No, it isn't. He will have to let me. I feel like the poultry in the farmer's yard, who declared 'twas hard that their nerves should be shaken, and their rest be marred by the visit of Mr. Ghost. Oh, I'll go to Brighton, if uncle likes; but pass the rest of my days in the tower-room, I won't."
 
A burst of laughter restored Jack's good temper, and then we all went into the dining-room and told mother about everything. I'm a good deal older now than I was then, but I have not yet got out of the way of wanting to rush off to tell mother everything. Happy are the youngsters who have such a mother as I have, and who try all their lives never to do or say anything that they would be afraid or ashamed to tell her. Let me see, I said &quo............