"You're white as a sheet!" she cried, in alarm. "And you're tremblin'
all over. What in the world IS the matter?"
Emily tried to smile, but it was a poor attempt.
"Nothing, nothing, Auntie," she said. "That is, I--I'm sure it can't be
anything to be afraid of."
"But you are afraid, just the same. What is it? Tell me this minute."
For the first time Emily looked her cousin in the face.
"Auntie," she whispered, "I am--I have been frightened. Something I
heard upstairs frightened me."
"Somethin' you heard upstairs? Where? Has Georgie--"
"No, Georgie is asleep in his room. I locked the door. It wasn't
Georgie; it was something else."
"Somethin'--Emily Howes, do you want to scare me to DEATH? What IS it?"
"I don't know what it is. I heard it first when I came out of Georgie's
room a few minutes ago. Then I went down the hall to his door and
listened. Aunt Thankful, he--he is in there talking--talking to
someone."
"He? Talkin'? Who?"
"Mr. Cobb. It was dreadful. He was talking to--to--I don't know WHAT he
was talking to, but it was awful to hear."
"Talkin'? Solomon Cobb was talkin'? In his sleep, do you mean?"
"No, he wasn't asleep. He was talking to someone, or some THING, in that
room. And that wasn't all. I heard--I heard--Oh, I DID hear it! I know I
did! And yet it couldn't be! It couldn't!"
"Emily Howes, if you keep on I'll--WHAT did you hear?"
"I don't know. . . . Aunt Thankful, where are you going?"
Thankful did not answer.
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