The sociable ghost Being the adventures of a reporter who was invited by the sociable ghost to a grand banquet, ball, and convention under the ground of old Trinity churchyard. A true tale of the things he saw and did not see while he was not there.
I may be able to run things in the next sphere as I did in my own circle
while I was alive.”
The young man did not know exactly how to talk to the great man and so
waited in silence for him to take up the conversation again. He did this
by asking if the young man had noted many expressions of regret in the
newspapers at the time of his demise.
The young man took note of the word demise and decided that somehow it
sounded better than the less subdued one of Death, in a general way, and
he thought it would sound so much better down here that he should make
use of it. So he looked sympathetically at the ghost, who stood
expectantly waiting, and said that he had been in school at the time,
but he remembered perfectly well, and he had also heard the principal of
the school tell the scholars about the demise of so famous a man, and
one so useful. That his example was a noble one for the rising
generation. While he was trying to think of something else to say, the
ghost suddenly and very irrelevantly said:
“My dear sir, what do you consider the most satisfactory word in the
English language?”
The young man blushed and stammered lamely that he did not exactly know,
but would be glad if the shade of such an authority would enlighten him.
The great man pushed out his chest, and said pompously:
“I should say it is, satisfaction. I think there is no other word so
strong in point of expressing a meaning to my mind. Now, I can say that
I am in a state of complete satisfaction so far as the success of the
origination of this fete is concerned. I have arranged so many other
affairs out of doors that I was glad to try my hand in a new field. It
has resulted in perfect satisfaction.”
Here he paused to allow the young listener to signify that he fully
concurred in the statement. The ghost passed his skeleton hand across
his chin and in a philosophical manner continued:
“Life is full of unsatisfied ambitions and general unrest of mind, and
hunger for food or power that nothing can satisfy but the actual
realization and final satisfaction of all longings. There is another
satisfaction, and that is realized revenge. When I came down here and
left all the vanities and pomp of the world behind me, I heard that a
certain society woman who had often tried to rebel and set aside my
authority, and sometimes did really annoy me very much and interfered
with my plans to a most unreasonable extent, said that now that I was
gone Society could draw a long breath and call its soul its own. This
woman prided herself on her fine presence. She even boasted that Death
itself could not make her ugly or less imposing. I saw her a few minutes
ago, and I honestly think she makes the worst-looking ghost I ever saw.
I assure you that was a great satisfaction. But, to return to the
decorations here. I would ask, have you seen the card room?”
“Card room! I was always led to think cards the invention of the Evil
one, and I certainly never expected to find them here.”
“My dear sir; you are behind the age. Cards are not by any means wicked
in themselves, nor is it wicked to play them. The whole 600 play cards.
Some of their card parties are among the most interesting functions down
here. If Tom, Dick or Harry sit around in common places and play stud
poker for the drinks, that is one thing. If Mrs. Schuyler Van Astorbilt
has a card party, why it is all right to play poker, euchre or bridge
whist, and if some lose why the others must win. They all are able to
lose without depriving their families of bread. Therefore it is no sin
for Society to play cards. I have decided that bridge whist is not worse
than casino. There has been a lot of rot talked about the smart set, but
not half of it is true—ah, yes; in a minute!”
This last was said by the man who had been talking with the reporter to
a man who appeared to be quite excited about something. They talked for
a few minutes in whispers, and then the newcomer, satisfied, went away,
and the social leader and planner of the fete returned to the newspaper
man with an apology, and said:
“You saw me just now? Well, that man came to tell me that there is a
professional gambler in the card room. I must go and put him out. It
would never do to let a professional gambler associate with our set.
Many of them are here. Will you come with me?”
CHAPTER III.
THE GAMBLER'S PENANCE
As they went toward the card room, the organizer of the banquet said:
“You must not be surprised if I have to employ force to get him out, for
he must go whether he wants to or not. It would never do in the world to
allow the morals of our place to become contaminated by the presence of
such creatures, so come on.”
As they neared the card room they heard female voices raised in
entreaty, saying: “Oh, Mr. Edwards, please do show us. We are at the
mercy of all the society people and they put on such airs. We do not
know how to play poker, and they cannot see what kind of training we
have had. If you do refuse we shall never be happy, for we shall be
forever shut out of good society.”
Much more and in many different voices was said, until it seemed that
the person to whom the appeals were made consented. Then there was a
chorus of thanks. By this time the leader of the smart set and the
newspaper man were in the room.
They stood and gazed at the scene before them. There were tables all
around the room. Players were seated at nearly all of them. The young
man noted that some played whist, others preferred euchre, while still
others played seven-up and beggar-my-neighbor and other old and
innocuous games, but many were playing poker. The cards were all right
but there was a total absence of chips or money. All the betting was
done with pebbles. The players were totally oblivious to everything
going on around them.
The professional gambler was pointed out to the director of the
ceremonies and he stood a little while looking at the man he was to put
out. He was by all odds the biggest ghost there. His shoulders were
broad and his arms long and massive. The leader stood thinking whether
it would be quite safe to argue with him. He had always been a man of
peace, and the only battles he had ever fought were those pertaining to
matters of dispute in the social ranks above ground. He had been
peacemaker there so often that he sometimes wondered that they had not
killed each other off like Kilkenny cats. So he watched the gambler, and
waited until he should do something which he might claim to be against
the rules governing the conduct of affairs in this card room.
One or two of the oldest whist players came to him and endeavored to
convince him that it was his duty to interfere before the professional
gambler had contaminated the minds of the lady ghosts by his presence.
These ladies were preparing to learn to play poker. But each time that
he looked at the giant proportions of this ghost the leader felt that it
was not his business to interfere. If they wanted to learn what did it
matter to him? Finally, at the urgent requests of the others, he plucked
up courage and strode over to Edwards with all the superhuman dignity of
a hopelessly small man, and with an air that admitted of no discussion,
said:
“Sir; I hear that you are a professional gambler. If that is so I must
request you to retire from the presence of these ladies. This is a very
exclusive part of the underground world—”
“Are you St. Peter?” asked Edwards, quietly.
“No: but I have been requested to see that nobody of questionable
antecedents is admitted, as it is intended for the best class—I hope you
will go quietly. There are ladies present and I do not wish to proceed
to extreme measures. Otherwise I shall be obliged to put you out.”
“Did you say that to me?” asked Edwards with ominous politeness. “For,
if you did, I have this to reply. I am not in the habit of taking orders
from anyone. But, if you still desire to try, I advise your friends to
bring a basket. For, if you lay a hand on me there won't be a bone of
you left big enough to make a toothpick of. Now, run along, little man
and don't bother me. I am at the service of these ladies, and don’t you
forget it.”
Saying this the big ghost of Edwards turned his back on the pompous
little man, giving his undivided attention to the ladies who had asked
him to teach them the noble and elevating game of poker. After one more
comprehensive glance at the massive proportions of the man before him,
the leader concluded that discretion was the better part of valor. He
scarcely saw how he could back down from the position he had taken
without a loss of dignity. His distress was so evident that the
newspaper man felt really sorry for him. He knew that this man held a
high position in the esteem of the ghosts and wished to help him. So he
came to his rescue in this way:
“I do not think he will do much harm, and if a sort of private watch is
kept on him, why, then, if he does anything offensive to good taste it
will be time to act. If you are willing I will stay here and if anything
is wrong I can report to you. What do you think?”
“So well of it that I will at once retire to the smoking room at the
right of the entrance, and there you will find me if anything
objectionable occurs.”
Saying this the little great man went out and the reporter prepared
himself to be amused beyond anything he had ever felt. He even expected
to get more fun out of the affair than Edwards himself.
There were six lady ghosts, and they crowded around the big gambler
endeavoring to console him for the unpleasantness that had just
occurred. All, with one accord agreed that the society leader would do
well to mind his own business. He was well enough to plan the banquet
and get up the decorations but when he undertook to spy on them and
dictate what they should do, they wanted him to understand that they
were not of the wonderful 400 and didn’t want to be. They thought
themselves too good, so there!
The six ladies then took seats at one of the tables.
One might think that these six ghosts might look exactly alike, but not
so, for every one had as distinct a personality as though she had not
been dead so long that nothing remained but bones. But there was a sort
of emanation of some indefinable kind; an atmosphere of some occult
property that took the place of flesh and body. In some curious and
inexplicable way this gave to each skeleton a separate individuality.
Even the lay mind could understand this, and the newspaper man could
tell the ghosts apart perfectly well.
One of these women was very small, and was clearly as pugnacious as a
sparrow and as tenacious as one. The next one was a woman of the stately
kind. The third was quite an old one, judging by her teeth, and sitting
beside her was one with such beautiful teeth as he had never seen but
once, and the sight quite unnerved him, too, for they belonged to the
young girl whose wedding had brought him to this strange carnival of
ghosts. The sight gave him an agonizing wrench of pain. He wondered how
long it would be before she would be like these women, with nothing left
of her sweet young beauty but her white and even teeth.
This ghost had a way of holding her head to one side and raising her
hollow eyeless sockets in what was once a most effective attitude, but
it was now but the travesty of itself. The sight filled the young man
with deep pity. This ghost was a widow.
“Did you say that to me?”
The fourth was as tall and angular as any of the two men ghosts without
one redeeming trait. She was an old maid. It was easy for the young man
to know all these things for some new and occult quality in his nature
hitherto unknown gave him a new insight into the personality of the