"I have rented this house for four
months and I am going to stay," she said firmly. Her eyes sought
Lizzie's, striving to pour some of her own inflexible courage into
the latter's quaking form. But Lizzie would not look at her.
Suddenly she started and gave a low scream;
"There's somebody on the terrace!" she breathed in a ghastly
whisper, clutching at Miss Cornelia's arm.
For a second Miss Cornelia sat frozen. Then, "Don't do that!" she
said sharply. "What nonsense!" but she, looked over her shoulder
as she said it and Lizzie saw the look. Both waited, in pulsing
stillness--one second--two.
"I guess it was the wind," said Lizzie at last, relieved, her grip
on Miss Cornelia relaxing. She began to look a trifle ashamed of
herself and Miss Cornelia seized the opportunity.
"You were born on a brick pavement," she said crushingly. "You get
nervous out here at night whenever a cricket begins to sing--or
scrape his legs--or whatever it is they do!"
Lizzie bowed before the blast of her mistress's scorn and began to
move gingerly toward the alcove door. But obviously she was not
entirely convinced.
"Oh, it's more than that, Miss Neily," she mumbled. "I--"
Miss Cornelia turned to her fiercely. If Lizzie was going to behave
like this, they might as well have it out now between them--before
Dale came home.
"What did you really see last night?" she said in a minatory voice.
The instant relief on Lizzie's face was ludicrous; she so obviously
preferred discussing any subject at any length to braving the
dangers of the other part of the house unaccompanied.
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