“I dunno. I can find you half a dozen good, honest folks, that have seen the ghost at the garret window.”
Ruth could not help shivering. She had begun to refuse to acknowledge the evidence of her own eyes, and that had helped. But Miss Titus seemed so positive.
“Is—is it because they are afraid of ghosts, that so few people have come to call on us, do you suppose?” Ruth asked.
The seamstress glanced at her through her spectacles. She had very sharp eyes and she snipped off threads with a bite of her sharp teeth, and stuck a sharp needle into her work in a very sharp manner. Altogether, Miss Ann Titus was a very sharp person.
“I shouldn’t wonder if there was another reason,” she said. “Ain’t the minister’s wife been?”
“Oh, yes. And we think she is lovely. But not many of the girls we meet at church have called. I thought maybe they were afraid. The house has had a bad name, because it was practically shut up so long.”
“Yes,” agreed Miss Titus. “And Peter Stower acted funny, too. They say his ghost haunts it.”
“How foolish!” said Ruth, flushing. “If people don’t want to come because of that——”
“Maybe there is another reason,” said the gossip.
“I’d like to know what it is!” demanded Ruth, determined to learn the worst. And Miss Titus did look so knowing and mysterious.