Besides, everybody knows there isn't any such thing as a ghost.

All such stories, when they're sifted down, turn out to be humbugs.

Sometimes the moving spectre is a white donkey browsing alongside the road.

Then again I've heard of how it was a swing that had a white pillow left in it by the children, and the night wind caused it to advance and retreat in a _terrible_ way.

Hugh, let's investigate this silly old business while we're on the spot." And by these wonderfully brave words Julius hoped to dissipate any notion concerning his alleged timidity that may have lodged in the brains of his chums.
So K.K.started up again, and by another minute the old car had passed in among the trees, with the overgrown brush "swiping" against the sides every foot of the way.