“Well, there was something years ago that old Mr. Grant got hold of—something valuable—that I made out didn’t belong to him. I don’t know what it was—never did know—but I’d hear Mrs. Grant—that was Miss Mattie’s mother, you understand—tryin’ to get him to give it back. ‘It can’t do us no good,’ she’d say—or words like them. And he’d always tell her that he meant to keep it for a while; if they lost everything else, this possession would keep ’em out of the poorhouse for a spell. Mrs. Grant kept askin’ him whereabouts it was hidden, and he just laughed at her. I believe she died without ever findin’ out....
“Well, whatever it was, Mr. Grant must have give it to Miss Mattie when he died, and she kept it hid somewheres in this house. No ordinary place, or I’d have found it in house-cleanin’. You can’t houseclean for forty years, twicet a year, without knowin’ ’bout everything in a house.... But I never seen nuthin’ valuable outside that safe of her’n.
“So what I think is,” continued Hannah, keeping her eyes fixed on Mary Louise, “that Mrs. Grant can’t rest in her grave till that thing is give back to whoever it belongs to. I believe her spirit visits this house at night, lookin’ for it, and turnin’ things upside down to find it. That’s why nuthin’ ain’t never stolen. So anybody that lives here ain’t goin’ have no peace at nights till she finds it.”
Hannah stopped talking, and, as Jane had promised, nobody laughed. As a matter of fact, nobody felt like laughing. The woman’s belief in her explanation was too sincere to be derided. The girls sat perfectly still, forgetting even to eat, thinking solemnly of what she had told them.
“We’ll have to find out what the thing is,” announced Mary Louise finally, “if we expect to make any headway. I wish I could go see Miss Mattie at the hospital tomorrow.”
“Well, you can’t,” said Jane firmly. “You’re going to that picnic. We can ask the gypsies when we have our fortunes told.”
“Gypsies!” exclaimed Hannah scornfully. “Gypsies ain’t no good! They used to camp around here till they drove Miss Mattie wild and she got the police after ’em. Don’t have nuthin’ to do with gypsies!”
“We’re just going to have our fortunes told,” explained Jane. “We don’t expect to invite them to our houses.”
“Well, don’t!” was the servant’s warning as she left the room.
When the girls had finished their supper they went upstairs to Miss Grant’s bedroom and unpacked their suitcases. But they were too tired to walk down the hill to call upon Abraham Lincoln Jones. If he wanted to steal chickens tonight, he was welcome to, as far as they were concerned.