"I always made fun of ghosts, myself, and so did John, until this happened. He won't own up now, 'cept that he's ready to leave the place, and won't go in with me in broad daylight, to 'tend to the rooms. So I know he's just as scairt as I am. And you know John's no coward with any thing he can see or handle, and it's no disgrace to a body to be shy of onearthly things. I'm a bold woman myself, but I ain't ready to face a spook." "What makes you think the house is haunted?" "Plenty of things." "Please mention a few. I'm a lawyer, you know, and demand the proofs." "I've seen a curious light hovering over the roof of the house of nights." "Did your husband see it also?" "Yes, he did see it, night before last. He wouldn't believe till he see it. I've seen it seven or eight times myself." "What was it like?" "Oh, Lordy, I'm sure I can't tell exactly what it was like, when I never saw any thing of the kind before; I suppose it's like them dead-lights that's been seen over graves. It's more like a bright shadow than an actual light--you can see through it like air. It wanders about the roof, then stops over one particular place. It would make your flesh creep to see it, sir!" "I would like, above all things, to try it. Do you suppose, if we went out now, we should have the opportunity?" "It's too early; leastways, I've never seen it so early in the evenin'. The first time, my baby was sick, and I got up in the night to get him some drops, and as I looked out the window, there was the thing shinin'." "Is that all that makes you think the house haunted?" "No, sir; we've heard things--curious sounds--even in the daytime." "What were the sounds like?" "I couldn't rightly explain 'em to you, sir. They were not human sounds." "Try and give me some idea of them." "They'd rise and fall, rise and fall--not like singing, nor crying, nor talking--a kind of wailing music, only not like it, either--that is, not like any thing I ever heard. It seems to come mostly from the family-room, back o' the library. John and me followed it up one evenin'. We went close up on the porch, and put our ears to the shutters. We heard it plain. We was so frightened, we've been glad not to go near the house again. I don't feel as if I ever could." "I think I know what it was," I said, half inclined to laugh. "The doors or sashes have been left open in such a way as to make a draught. It is the wind, singing through the crevices of the deserted mansion. I, myself, have heard the wind make most unearthly music under such circumstances." "'Twa'n't wind at all," said the gardener's wife, in an offended tone. "Perhaps persons have obtained access to the house that have no business there. They may deface the furniture, or carry off articles of value. You really ought to look to it, Mrs. Scott; it's part of your duty."