My dear Sister,—
I will put that little story I am going to tell you right at the beginning, before Dorry and Bubby Short get back. I mean about W. B.’s getting scared. But don’t you be scared, for after all ’t was—no, I mean after all ’t wasn’t—but wait and you’ll know by and by, when I tell you. ’T was one night when Dorry and I and some more fellers were a sitting here together, and we all of us heard some thick boots coming-a hurrying up the stairs, and the door came a banging open, and W. B. pitched in, just as pale as a sheet, and couldn’t but just breathe. And he tried to speak, but couldn’t, only one word at once, and catching his breath between, just so,—“Shut—the—door!—Do!—Do!—shut—the door!” Then we shut up the door, and Bubby Short stood his back up against it because ’t wouldn’t quite latch, and now I will tell you what it was that scared him. Not at the first of it, but I shall tell it just the same way we found it out.
Says he, “I was making a box, and when I got it done ’t was dark, but I went to carry the carpenter’s tools back to him, because I promised to. And going along,” says he, “I thought I heard a funny noise behind me, but I didn’t think very much about it, but I heard it again, and I looked over my shoulder, and I saw something white behind me, a chasing me. I went faster, and then that went faster. Then I went slower, and then that went slower. And then I got scared and ran as fast as I could, and looked over my shoulder and ’t was keeping up. But it didn’t run with feet, nor with legs, for then I shouldn’t ’a’ been scared. But it came—O, I don’t know how it came, without anything to go on.”
Dorry asked him, “How did it look?”
“O,—white. All over white,” says W. B.
“How big was it?” Bubby Short asked him.
“O,—I don’t know,” says W. B. “First it looked about as big as a pigeon, but every time I looked round it seemed to grow bigger and bigger.”
“Maybe ’t was a pigeon,” says Dorry. “Did it have any wings?”
“Not a wing,” says W. B.
“Maybe ’t was a white cat,” says Mr. Augustus.