"I was sitting by myself here about this time last evening, Master Johnny, having dismissed the children, and almost too tired with their worry to get my own tea, when Harriet Roe came gliding in at the door, looking whiter than a sheet, and startling me beyond everything. 'Aunt Susan,' says she in so indistinct a tone that I should have boxed one of the girls had she attempted to use such, 'would you take pity on me and let me stay here till to-morrow morning? Louis went away this afternoon, and I dare not stop alone in the place all night.' 'What are you afraid of?' I asked, not telling her at once that she might stay; but down she sat, and threw her mantle and bonnet off--taking French leave. I never saw _her_ in such a state before," continued Miss Timmens vehemently; "shivering and shaking as if she had an ague, and not a particle of her impudence left in her. 'I think that place must be damp with the willow brook, aunt,' says she; 'it gives me a sensation of cold.' 'Now don't you talk nonsense about your willow brooks, Harriet Roe,' says I. 'You are not shaking for willow brooks, or for cold either, but from fright. What is it?' 'Well then,' says she, plucking up a bit, 'I'm afraid of seeing the boy.' 'What boy?' says I--'not David?' 'Yes; David,' she says, and trembles worse than ever. 'He appeared to Aunt Nancy; a sign he is not at rest; and he is as sure to be in the house as sure can be. Dying in the way he did, and lying hid in the shed as he did, what else is to be expected?' Well, Master Johnny, this all seemed to me very odd--as I've just observed to Nancy," continued Miss Timmens. "It struck me, sir, there was more behind. 'Harriet,' says I, 'have you _seen_ David Garth?' But at first no satisfactory answer could I get from her, neither yes nor no. At last she said she had not seen him, but knew she should if she stayed in the house by herself at night, for that he came again, and was _in_ it. It struck me she was speaking falsely; and that she _had_ seen him; or what she took for him." "I know she has; I feel convinced of it," spoke up poor Mrs. Hill, tilting back her black bonnet--worn for David--to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Master Ludlow, don't smile, sir--though it's best perhaps for the young to disbelieve these solemn things. As surely as that we are talking here, my dear boy's spirit came to me in the moment of his death. I feared it might take to haunting the cottage, sir; and that's one reason why I could not stay in it." "Yes; Harriet has seen him," interposed Maria Lease in low, firm tones. "Just as I saw Daniel Ferrar. Master Johnny, _you_ know I saw _him_." Well, truth to say, I thought she must have seen Daniel Ferrar. Having assisted at the sight--or if not at the actual sight, at the place and time and circumstance attending it--I did not see how else it was to be explained away. "Where's Harriet now?" I asked.