But I didn't have to, thank goodness. His light's still lit and I
heard him movin' around, so he ain't been scared clean to death, at any
rate. For the rest of it I don't care so much; a good hard scarin' may
do him good. He needs one. If ever a stingy old reprobate needed to have
a warnin' from the hereafter that man does."
"Did you hear anything--anything else?" whispered Emily, fearfully.
"No, I didn't, and I didn't wait for fear I MIGHT hear it. Did I lock
the door when I came in? Emily, I guess you think I'm the silliest old
coward that ever was. I am--and I know it. Tomorrow we'll both be brave
enough, and we'll both KNOW there ain't any spirits here, or anywhere
else this side of the grave; but tonight--well, tonight's different.
. . . Ouch! what was that? There, there! don't mind my jumpin'. I feel
as if I'd been stuffed with springs, like a sofa. Did you ever know a
night as long as this? Won't mornin' EVER come?"
At five o'clock, while it was still pitch dark, Thankful announced her
intention of going downstairs. "Might as well be in the kitchen as up
here," she said, "and I can keep busy till Imogene comes down. And,
besides, we'd better be puttin' Georgie's stockin' and his presents in
the livin'-room. The poor little shaver's got to have his Christmas,
even though his Santa Claus did turn out to be a walkin' rag-bag."
Emily started. "Why, it is Christmas, isn't it!" she exclaimed.
"Between returned brothers and," with a little shiver, "ghosts, I forgot
entirely.
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