|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 48
"We might just as well hang out our washing in that vacant lot,"
Mrs. Townsend had told Cordelia the first Monday of their stay in
the house. "Our little yard ain't half big enough for all our
clothes, and it is sunnier there, too."
So Cordelia had hung out the wash there for four Mondays, and this
was the fifth. The breakfast was about half finished--they had
reached the buckwheat cakes--when this maid came rushing into the
dining-room and stood regarding them, speechless, with a
countenance indicative of the utmost horror. She was deadly pale.
Her hands, sodden with soapsuds, hung twitching at her sides in the
folds of her calico gown; her very hair, which was light and
sparse, seemed to bristle with fear. All the Townsends turned and
looked at her. David and George rose with a half-defined idea of
burglars.
"Cordelia Battles, what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Townsend.
Adrianna gasped for breath and turned as white as the maid. "What
is the matter?" repeated Mrs. Townsend, but the maid was unable to
speak. Mrs. Townsend, who could be peremptory, sprang up, ran to
the frightened woman and shook her violently. "Cordelia Battles,
you speak," said she, "and not stand there staring that way, as if
you were struck dumb! What is the matter with you?"
Then Cordelia spoke in a fainting voice.
"There's--somebody else--hanging out clothes--in the vacant lot,"
she gasped, and clutched at a chair for support.
"Who?" cried Mrs. Townsend, rousing to indignation, for already she
had assumed a proprietorship in the vacant lot. "Is it the folks
in the next house? I'd like to know what right they have! We are
next to that vacant lot."
"I--dunno--who it is," gasped Cordelia. "Why, we've seen that girl
next door go to mass every morning," said Mrs. Townsend. "She's
got a fiery red head. Seems as if you might know her by this time,
Cordelia."
"It ain't that girl," gasped Cordelia. Then she added in a horror-
stricken voice, "I couldn't see who 'twas."
They all stared.
"Why couldn't you see?" demanded her mistress. "Are you struck
blind?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then why couldn't you see?"
"All I could see was--" Cordelia hesitated, with an expression of
the utmost horror.
"Go on," said Mrs. Townsend, impatiently.
"All I could see was the shadow of somebody, very slim, hanging out
the clothes, and--"
"What?"
"I could see the shadows of the things flappin' on their line."
"You couldn't see the clothes?"
"Only the shadow on the ground."
"What kind of clothes were they?"
"Queer," replied Cordelia, with a shudder.
"If I didn't know you so well, I should think you had been
drinking," said Mrs. Townsend. "Now, Cordelia Battles, I'm going
out in that vacant lot and see myself what you're talking about."
"I can't go," gasped the woman.
With that Mrs. Townsend and all the others, except Adrianna, who
remained to tremble with the maid, sallied forth into the vacant
lot. They had to go out the area gate into the street to reach it.
It was nothing unusual in the way of vacant lots. One large poplar
tree, the relic of the old forest which had once flourished there,
twinkled in one corner; for the rest, it was overgrown with coarse
weeds and a few dusty flowers. The Townsends stood just inside the
rude board fence which divided the lot from the street and stared
with wonder and horror, for Cordelia had told the truth. They all
saw what she had described--the shadow of an exceedingly slim woman
moving along the ground with up-stretched arms, the shadows of
strange, nondescript garments flapping from a shadowy line, but
when they looked up for the substance of the shadows nothing was to
be seen except the clear, blue October air.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|