"More ghosts!" cried the shoemaker, "and they know who is behind them.
They have fallen flat at the sound of my footsteps. But one must
think of others as well as oneself, and it is not every heart that is
as stout as mine." Saying which he returned to the house for something
black to throw over the prostrate ghosts. Now the kitchen chimney had
been swept that morning, and by the back door stood a sack of soot.

"What is blacker than soot?" said the cobbler; and taking the sack, he
shook it out over the pieces of linen till not a thread of white was
to be seen. After which he went home, and boasted of his good deeds.

The widow now saw that she must be more careful as to what she said;
so, after weighing the matter for some time, she suggested to the
cobbler that the next night he should watch for ghosts at home; "for
they are to be seen," said she, "as well when one is in bed as in the
fields."

"There you are right," said the cobbler, "for I have this day read of
a ghost that appeared to a man in his own house. The candles burnt
blue, and when he had called thrice upon the apparition, he became
senseless."

"That was his mistake," said the old woman. "He should have turned a
deaf ear, and even pretended to slumber; but it is not every one who
has courage for this. If one could really fall asleep in the face of
the apparition, there would be true bravery."

"Leave that to me," said the cobbler. And the widow went off
chuckling, to herself, "If he comes to any mischance by holding his
tongue and going to sleep, ill-luck has got him by the leg, and