put my hands on it!"

"Well, of course, if you'd rather sit in the kitchen, Lizzie--"

"Oh, give me the ouijie!" said Lizzie in tones of heartbreak. "I'd
rather be shot and stabbed than stay in the kitchen any more."

"Very well," said Miss Cornelia, "it's your own decision, Lizzie--
remember that." Her needles clicked on. "I'll just finish this
row before we start," she said. "You might call up the light company
in the meantime, Lizzie--there seems to be a storm coming up and I
want to find out if they intend to turn out the lights tonight as
they did last night. Tell them I find it most inconvenient to be
left without light that way."

"It's worse than inconvenient," muttered Lizzie, "it's criminal--
that's what it is--turning off all the lights in a haunted house,
like this one. As if spooks wasn't bad enough with the lights on--"

"Lizzie!"

"Yes, Miss Neily--I wasn't going to say another word." She went to
the telephone. Miss Cornelia knitted on--knit two--purl two-- In
spite of her experiments with the ouija-board she didn't believe in
ghosts--and yet--there were things one couldn't explain by logic.
Was there something like that in this house--a shadow walking the
corridors--a vague shape of evil, drifting like mist from room to
room, till its cold breath whispered on one's back and--there! She
had ruined her knitting, the last two rows would have to be ripped
out. That came of mooning about ghosts like a ninny.