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    Chapter 3

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    The next morning, when the Otis family met at breakfast, they discussed
    the ghost at some length. The United States Minister was naturally a
    little annoyed to find that his present had not been accepted. "I have
    no wish," he said, "to do the ghost any personal injury, and I must say
    that, considering the length of time he has been in the house, I don't
    think it is at all polite to throw pillows at him,"--a very just remark,
    at which, I am sorry to say, the twins burst into shouts of laughter.
    "Upon the other hand," he continued, "if he really declines to use the
    Rising Sun Lubricator, we shall have to take his chains from him. It
    would be quite impossible to sleep, with such a noise going on outside
    the bedrooms."

    For the rest of the week, however, they were undisturbed, the only thing
    that excited any attention being the continual renewal of the
    blood-stain on the library floor. This certainly was very strange, as
    the door was always locked at night by Mr. Otis, and the windows kept
    closely barred. The chameleon-like colour, also, of the stain excited a
    good deal of comment. Some mornings it was a dull (almost Indian) red,
    then it would be vermilion, then a rich purple, and once when they came
    down for family prayers, according to the simple rites of the Free
    American Reformed Episcopalian Church, they found it a bright
    emerald-green. These kaleidoscopic changes naturally amused the party
    very much, and bets on the subject were freely made every evening. The
    only person who did not enter into the joke was little Virginia, who,
    for some unexplained reason, was always a good deal distressed at the
    sight of the blood-stain, and very nearly cried the morning it was
    emerald-green.

    The second appearance of the ghost was on Sunday night. Shortly after
    they had gone to bed they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful crash in
    the hall. Rushing down-stairs, they found that a large suit of old
    armour had become detached from its stand, and had fallen on the stone
    floor, while seated in a high-backed chair was the Canterville ghost,
    rubbing his knees with an expression of acute agony on his face. The
    twins, having brought their pea-shooters with them, at once discharged

    two pellets on him, with that accuracy of aim which can only be attained
    by long and careful practice on a writing-master, while the United
    States Minister covered him with his revolver, and called upon him, in
    accordance with Californian etiquette, to hold up his hands! The ghost
    started up with a wild shriek of rage, and swept through them like a
    mist, extinguishing Washington Otis's candle as he passed, and so
    leaving them all in total darkness. On reaching the top of the staircase
    he recovered himself, and
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