adoration in my childish eyes. She began to nod
and smile at me, and then to speak to me, but at
first I was almost afraid to answer her. There were
stories now among the children that the house was
haunted, and that by night a ghost walked there and
in the grounds. I felt an extraordinary interest in
the ghost, and I spent hours peering through our
picket fence, trying to catch a glimpse of it; but I
hesitated to be on terms of neighborly intimacy with
one who dwelt with ghosts.

One day the mysterious lady bent and kissed me.
Then, straightening up, she looked at me queerly
and said: ``Go and tell your mother I did that.''
There was something very compelling in her manner.
I knew at once that I must tell my mother what she
had done, and I ran into our house and did so.
While my mother was considering the problem the
situation presented, for she knew the character of
the house next door, a note was handed in to her--
a very pathetic little note from my mysterious lady,
asking my mother to let me come and see her. Long
afterward mother showed it to me. It ended with
the words: ``She will see no one but me. No harm
shall come to her. Trust me.''

That night my parents talked the matter over and
decided to let me go. Probably they felt that the
slave next door was as much to be pitied as the es-
caped-negro slaves they so often harbored in our