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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Thankful's Inheritance"

I used to scold
her for it, poor soul. Many's the time I've reproached myself since,
but--"
"For mercy sakes, what's your sister's snorin' got to do with--"
"Hush! Mrs. Barnes," with intense solemnity. "As sure as you and I live
and breathe this minute, my sister Medora came to me last night."
"CAME to you! Why--you mean you dreamed about her, don't you? There's
nothin' strange in that. When you took that fourth cup of tea I said to
myself--"
"HUSH! Oh, hush! DON'T talk so. I didn't dream. Mrs. Barnes, I woke up
at two o'clock this morning and--and I heard Medora snoring as plain as
I ever heard anything."
Thankful was strongly tempted to laugh, but the expression on Miss
Timpson's face was so deadly serious that she refrained.
"Goodness!" she exclaimed. "Is that all? That's nothin'. A night like
last night, with the rain and the blinds and the wind--"
"Hush! It wasn't the wind. Don't you suppose I know? I thought it was
the wind or my imagination at first. But I laid there and listened and I
kept hearing it. Finally I got up and lit my lamp; and still I heard it.
It was snoring and it didn't come from the room I was in. It came from
the little back room I'd made into a study."
Thankful's smile faded. She was conscious of a curious prickling at
the roots of her black hair. The back bedroom! The room in which Laban
Eldredge died! The room in which she herself had heard--
"I went into that room," continued Miss Timpson. "I don't know how I
ever did it, but I did.


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