"
Miss Cornelia yawned, a little dismally. She felt as if the last
two hours had not been hours but years.
"Miss Dale won't be home for half an hour," she said reflectively.
And if I have to spend another thirty minutes listening to Lizzie
shiver, she thought, Dale will find me a nervous wreck when she
does come home. She rolled up her knitting and put it back in
her knitting-bag; it was no use going on, doing work that would
have to be ripped out again and yet she must do something to occupy
her thoughts. She raised her head and discovered Lizzie returning
toward the alcove stairs with the stealthy tread of a panther. The
sight exasperated her.
"Now, Lizzie Allen!" she said sharply, "you forget all that
superstitious nonsense and stop looking for ghosts! There's nothing
in that sort of thing." She smiled--she would punish Lizzie for
her obdurate timorousness. "Where's that ouija-board?" she
questioned, rising, with determination in her eye.
Lizzie shuddered violently. "It's up there--with a prayer book on
it to keep it quiet!" she groaned, jerking her thumb in the direction
of the farther bookcase.
"Bring it here!" said Miss Cornelia implacably; then as Lizzie still
hesitated, "Lizzie!"
Shivering, every movement of her body a conscious protest, Lizzie
slowly went over to the bookcase, lifted off the prayer book, and
took down the ouija-board. Even then she would not carry it normally
but bore it over to Miss Cornelia at arms'-length, as if any closer
contact would blast her with lightning, her face a comic mask of
loathing and repulsion.
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