This time all four of us were looking.
Presently, as we moved across the wide hall to go downstairs again,
Bryan came from one of the other chambers, whither, I think, he had
carried the young lady's supper on a tray.
"Are there supposed to be any ghosts in this house?" I asked him.
Bryan showed his white teeth in the semi-darkness. Whether he believed
in ghosts or not, evidently he did not fear them.
"Yes, sir," he said. "We're supposed to have a ghost here."
"Where?"
"In that room over there," he answered, indicating the bedroom from
which we had come.
We listened attentively to Bryan while he told how the daughter of
Governor Swan had come to attend a ball at Hampton, and how she had died
in the four-post bed in that old shadowy guest room, and of how, since
then, she had been seen from time to time.
"They's several people say they saw her," he finished. "She comes out
and combs her hair in front of the long mirror."
However, as we drove back to Baltimore that evening, we repeatedly
assured one another that we did not believe in ghosts.
CHAPTER IX
ARE WE STANDARDIZED?
Almost all modern European critics of the United States agree in
complaining that our telephones and sleeping cars are objectionable, and
that we are "standardized" in everything.
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