Charles FolkardYOU will not believe this story. I know; nevertheless, it is a draft upon your credulity which must be honoured, for it is true. When I say true, you must understand that the literary trimmings do not count. But without the literary trimmings the Editor might not pay me.
It was told to me by a lady who could not possibly romance if she tried. She is a respectable member of society, English to the backbone, much more competent at mixing Christmas puddings in October than cultivating the imagination. One afternoon she visited some friends who lived in a house on the edge of Wimbledon Common. She was to stay for tea and dinner. On entering the house she ran upstairs to one of the bedrooms to remove her hat and jacket. On coming out of the room she noticed a charming girl pass along the gallery that ran round the first floor as though she, too, had just taken off her things. On entering the drawing-room my friend said to one of the daughters:-
"Who is the pretty girl I saw upstairs?"
The daughter seemed embarrassed and turned the question off with a laugh. "One of mother's friends, I expect," she said.
In the drawing-room sat a major, well groomed, about forty-five years of age, and apparently greater at a boudoir adventure than on the stricken field. Tea-time passed as it always does in Suburbia, six o'clock came, half-past six, seven, and still the major sat on. It was clear that he had come to stay.
"You will dine with us?" finally asked the hostess.
"With pleasure," said the major. When next the servant entered she was told to set an extra cover.
"Two extra covers have been set, madam," came the reply; "one for the major and another for his lady."
Again a look of embarrassment crossed the faces of the mother and her two daughters, and nothing more was said.
At last it was dinner-time, and the major took in my friend. After the soup the major's curiosity could stand the strain no longer.
"Please, Mrs. Williams, tell me," said he, "where is that pretty girl?"
"Aha!" said my friend. "So you were waiting for the pretty girl, were you, major?"
"Well," said he, "not to put too fine a point upon it, I was."
A laugh went round the table—not a very hearty laugh—but the major was not to be denied.
"Have you locked her up in the bedroom for being naughty?" he asked. Then Mrs. Williams owned up.
"The fact is," said she, "we have heard of this visitor, but none of us has ever seen her. The servants have seen her, and our friends, but we never do."
"Well," said the major, "I want to see the lady again."
The party broke up about eleven o'clock. The major was putting on his overcoat when the ghostly beauty was seen slowly walking down the staircase watching with a look of amused contempt the gay young chattering folk who were speeding their parting guests. The family were oblivious of her presence, but every visitor saw the apparition. The major buttoned his coat, rushed to the door, and never again visited the house. My friend remained to see it out. The apparition followed the major to the door and disappeared into the night.
—
S. G. Hobson (
The Tatler, May 20, 1908)
***
It's possible Hobson's mini-series extended to six episodes, as the British Newspaper Library copies for May 13 and June 3 1908 lack several pages. Whatever, if you enjoyed
The Amorous Major and the Charming Ghost, these are in similar vein.
S. G. Hobson - A Little Trip into the Uncanny: (
The Tatler, May 6, 1908)
The Man who Did Not Know He Was Dead
The Phantom Mastiff
The Incumbent's Dream and the Lonely Moor.
S. G. Hobson - Another Trip into the Uncanny: (
The Tatler, May 20, 1908)
The Amorous Major and the Charming Ghost.
The Ghost in the Attic
The Leprechaun
S. G. Hobson - Another Trip into the Uncanny: (
The Tatler, May 27, 1908)
The Wrecked Adventurer and the Lonely Farm.
The Ghostly Monk
S. G. Hobson - Another Trip into the Uncanny: (
The Tatler, June 10, 1908)
The Ghost that Set Up its own Skeleton.
The Soldier Returns
***
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