He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her cheek. "I ain't a ghost yet, though 'pon my word I didn't know but what I'd soon be one." As he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat. "Well, 'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation! You're getting fat," and he scanned her in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for the little runaway that held me up last March out at Marsden."