“Um—uumm!” Moselle shook her head. “I don’t know what your mother will say, Miss Sim. Chasing after ghosts. You-all ought to keep away from that place. I know it’s dangerous. Plumb full of ha’nts, that what it is.”
“Why, Moselle! Do you know anything about it?” Sim asked, surprised.
“Yes’m, Miss Sim, I sure does! Only las’ night Brutus Jackson tole me he was going to work there ’cause he needed a little change, and ain’t half hour ago he came dashing into my kitchen with Sam Brown and tell me they done quit.”
“He did—why?” Arden frantically signaled Sim to let her continue the questioning of Moselle.
“Why, he say,” went on the colored woman, “a funny old soldier with a bloody bandage around his haid come clumping down the stairs and stood pointing for Sam and him to get out the door and, yes, ma’am, he say they sure did git!” Moselle made unbelieving noises.
Terry turned to Sim. “Gosh, I’m sorry we didn’t stay. What’d you run for, Sim?”
Sim started to reply, but seeing Moselle listening intently said casually, “Oh, I just felt like it.” Then, addressing the curious cook, she asked: “How about lunch, Moselle?”
“Yes’m, Miss Sim, in just a few minutes. You-all got time to change if you like,” she said, quick to realize she was being dismissed.
“Good! Come on then, kids, let’s go up;” and before Arden or Terry could ask any more questions Sim, taking them by the elbows, steered them up the stairs.
By unspoken consent they gathered in Sim’s room.