“Yes; and Sanford—Mr. Embury, you know, came gliding through my room, and he stopped at my bedside to say good-by—”
“Was he alive?” asked Fibsy, awe-struck at her hushed tones and bright, glittering eyes.
“Oh, no, it was his spirit, you see—his disembodied spirit”
“How could you see it, then?”
“When spirits appear like that, they are visible.”
“Oh, ma’am—I didn’t know.”
“Yes, and I not only saw him but he was evident to all my five senses!”
“What, ma’am? What do you mean?”
Fibsy drew back, a little scared, as Aunt Abby clutched his sleeve in her excitement. He felt uneasy, for it was growing dusk, and the old lady was in such a state of nervous exhilaration that he shrank a little from her proximity.
But Fibsy was game. “Go on, ma’am,” he whispered.