An interesting short story, one of Edith Wharton's modest output of ghostly tales. It is included in the omnibus "The Ghost Stories of Edith Wharton," but was first published in 1916.
The narrator is looking to buy an old castle in Brittany named Kerfol, and goes to tour the estate, but the people who live there are at the local pub getting drunk. Evidently, it is an annual tradition that on one particular day they go out drinking so as to avoid the ghosts that come out to play. And our narrator comes to find out that ghosts come in unlikely shapes and sizes.
Readers will detect a feminist undercurrent in the treatment of one of the female characters whose story is told within the story, but it lacks the power and quality that is characteristic of Wharton's usually amazing writing. This certainly makes for pleasant bedtime reading, but there's nothing here that I can see that elevates it to a classic. If you run across it in a collection, don't miss it, but I don't think it will stand in your memory as one to scare children with by the fire.