Mary Louise’s brown eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“I hope it is!” she exclaimed. “And then we’ll get a look at the inside of that house. Because everybody says it’s supposed to be haunted. Our colored laundress’s little girl was walking past it one evening about dusk, and she heard the most terrible moan. She claims that two eyes, without any head or body, looked out through the hedge at her. She dropped her bundle and ran as fast as she could for home.”
“You don’t really believe there is anything, do you, Mary Lou?”
“I don’t know. There must be something queer about it.”
“Maybe there’s a crazy woman shut up in the tower.”
“You’ve been reading Jane Eyre, haven’t you, Jane? But there isn’t any tower on the Grant house.”
“Well, I guess Miss Grant is crazy enough herself. She dresses in styles of forty years ago. Did you ever see her?”
“Yes, I’ve had a glimpse of her once or twice when I walked past here. She looks like the picture of the old maid on the old-maid cards. It must be awful for that girl who lives with her.”
“What girl?” inquired Jane.
“A niece, I believe. She must be about our age. Her father and mother both died, so she has to live with Miss Grant. They say the old lady treats her terribly—much worse than the two old servants she keeps.”