The old woman looked at me suddenly in wild-eyed alarm.
“S-s-h!” she whispered. “Don't name no names.”
“But I saw—”
She put her hand over my mouth.
“He's in it somewhere, or the devil is, but I don't know where. He's an awful man. He's everywhere at once. He's—oh Lord! What was that?”
I had become infected with her nervousness, and at a cracking or creaking sound turned around with half an expectation of seeing Doddridge Knapp himself coming in the door.
There was no one there—nothing to be seen but the flickering shadows, and no sound broke the stillness as we listened.
“It's nothing,” I said.
“I reckon I ain't got no call to be scared at any crackings in this old house,” said Mother Borton with a nervous giggle. “I've hearn 'em long enough. But that man's name gives me the shivers.”
“What did he ever do to you?” I asked with some curiosity.