H. A. Hartzell

“ Captain Wully started on his beard. "You should see her, laddie. A real Indian princess, left over from a Lovers Leap. Bein' four hundred years old, she's real aristocracy and doesn't mingle with younger ghosts, which is why I never seen her before. Myself, I'm three score and hardly in her class. Although I must say she took a shine to me. But Indian braves don't wear beards." ”

“ Now Heather, too, was watching Wesley's necktie.
"I don't think women like to be taken for granted," Jerry said.
One end of the necktie became longer and longer as its opposite end shortened. With a final but quiet jerk, the necktie came free, hesitated for a moment opposite Wesley's belt buckle, then folded itself neatly and floated away. ”

“ When Captain Wully realized Heather Higgins had taken the plaid skirt home, he was inconsolable.
Heather Higgins kept her appointment to sit next morning. She was greeted at the mailbox by a subdued young man, who hastily shoved in his pocket a letter promising drastic action in the matter of "tax liens against property situate, to wit, etc."
"The oddest thing has happened," she said.
And Jerry knew. "The plaid skirt is gone again."
She gave him a chilly look. "See here! For a young man who claims to know nothing about—"
"It's my handyman," he babbled. "My handyman's a kleptomaniac." ”

“ Jerry prompted.
"If a body kiss a body, need a body cry," sang Captain Wully's baritone.
But, eventually, Captain Wully and the scissors were seated at the table behind a round magnifying mirror. "It begins with Gertrude. You remember how she scooted through the studio this afternoon with a werewolf after her?"
"How stupid of me not to realize."
"I felt Gertrude needed help. I caught up with the werewolf and gave him a piece of my mind. 'Pretty small potatoes,' I says, 'when a werewolf chases cats. You must be pretty second-rate to have fallen so low. ”

“ Barret is out of his head over "Gertrude." Impressionism at its finest, with an eerie, imaginative quality unsurpassed by any American artist. Soul of the eternally feminine, as typified by a cat with a hole in the head. Social satire in oil. Picture not priced. He asks what will you take within reason? One thousand?
Jerry was sure of only one thing. He'd never painted any picture of Gertrude. There was, however, the matter of that tube of bice green squeezed in the middle, and the gamboge left capless. He ran to the stairwell and yelled for Captain Wully, who presently appeared. ”

“ As president of the Historical Society, I wish to state we vigorously oppose the wrecking of this building. One by one, our landmarks have fallen. Are we to hand down to our children a community without pride of ancestry? ”

“ The mayor smiled to show he knew Jerry Masterson was only kidding, then brandished a State Highway Commission report recommending that the antiquated Waukeena Lighthouse be demolished. "Mr. Masterson, we respect your feelings as an artist, and are well aware of the local superstition regarding the ghost of Captain MacGreggor, but this building is over seventy years old and needs expensive repairs. The financial burden is too great for our metropolis of less than fifteen hundred souls. ”

“ She left, and Jerry was eating dinner when Captain Wully walked in to the whistled measures of Comin' Through the Rye.
"Rye!" said Jerry. "You? Rye?"
"I borrowed her old man's Scotch, if that's what you're gettin' at. And if you think I enjoyed eatin' all that candy just to leave a trail—I hope I don't see another piece of candy for three hundred years."
"Just to satisfy my curiosity," Jerry pleaded, "where does the plaid skirt come in?"
"The MacGreggor tartan? I needed a kilt."
"All of a sudden you need a kilt. Why?" ”

“ The scissors snipped rapidly, and bits of pink mustache littered the unswept floor.
"'A renegade,' I says. 'Your family must be awfully proud of you. Chasing cats!' Ouch—" as the scissors slipped. "I says, 'Where do you live?' And he says, 'Down the road a piece. I'm lapdog for an Indian princess.' 'I think,' I says, usin' my head real quick like, 'I better see you home and see what your mistress has to say about this.'"
The mustache having been whittled to a tailored toothbrush. ”

“ And, if he observed all the Horatio Alger niceties, maybe some day he'd own the company and could seek Heather Higgins' hand in marriage—only to discover she had long since married Wesley.
He walked along the beach. Climbing to a jutting promontory, he watched waves break against the rocks below. Why not throw himself into the sea? He could become a ghost, and maybe find a lady ghost, and.... ”