than her words.

"You must not be too sure, my dear. I know she doesn't mean to call upon
me, because my husband is a city man. That is just as she pleases. I am
not very fond of city men myself. But there's no reason why I should
stand on ceremony when I want something, is there? Now, my dear, I want
to know--Don't laugh at me. I am not superstitious, so far as I am aware;
but--Tell me, in your time was there ever any disturbance, any appearance
you couldn't understand, any--Well, I don't like the word ghost. It's
disrespectful, if there's anything of the sort: and it's vulgar if there
isn't. But you know what I mean. Was there anything--of that sort--in
your time?"

In your time! Poor Mary had scarcely realized yet that her time was over.
Her heart refused to allow it when it was thus so abruptly brought before
her, but she obliged herself to subdue these rising rebellions, and to
answer, though with some _hauteur_, "There is nothing of the kind that I
ever heard of. There is no superstition or ghost in our house."

She thought it was the vulgar desire of new people to find a conventional
mystery, and it seemed to Mary that this was a desecration of her home.
Mrs. Turner, however (for that was her name), did not receive the
intimation as the girl expected, but looked at her very gravely, and
said, "That makes it a great deal more serious," as if to herself. She
paused and then added, "You see, the case is this. I have a little girl
who is our youngest, who is just my husband's idol. She is a sweet little
thing, though perhaps I should not say it. Are you fond of children? Then
I almost feel sure you would think so too. Not a moping child at all, or
too clever, or anything to alarm one. Well, you know, little Connie,
since ever we came in, has seen an old lady walking about the house."