"
"I really was not aware of it before," replied Jack; "but I am
delighted to hear it."
"When Sam arrived, nobody disputed his title to the property, except
the ghost; but Sam had seen a good deal of hard service, and declared
that he would not be choused out of his patrimony for all the ghosts
in the parish; and, in spite of the persuasions of the villagers,
resolved to take up his abode there forthwith. Sam accordingly laid in
a supply of stores, including a month's supply of tobacco and rum. He
first made the place water-tight, then made a fire sufficient to roast
an ox, and when night arrived made a jorum of grog, a little stiff, to
keep away the damp. This done, he lit his pipe, and began to cook a
steak for his supper. The old mill, for the first time since the
decease of the former proprietor, was filled with the savory odor of
roast beef."
"And there are worse odors than that," remarked Jack. "Whilst the
steak was frizzling, he took a swig at the grog; and, thinking one
side was done, he gave the gridiron a twist, which sent the steak a
little way up the chimney, and, strange to say, it never came down
again.
"'Ten thousand What's-a-names,' cried Sam, 'where's my steak?'
"No answer was vouchsafed to this query; he looked up the chimney, and
could see no one."
"The steak had really disappeared then?" said Jack, inquiringly.
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