“Oh, Eva!” murmured Agnes. “You are fooling me.”
“No, Ma’am! I’m not.”
“A—a ghost?”
“Yes. Everybody knows about it. It’s been there for years.”
“But—but we haven’t seen it.”
“You wouldn’t likely see it—yet. Unless it was the other night when the wind blew so hard. It comes only in a storm.”
“What! the ghost?”
“Yes. In a big storm it is always seen looking out of the windows.”
“Goodness!” whispered Agnes. “What windows?”
“In the garret. I believe that’s where it is always seen. And, of course, it is seen from outside. When there is a big wind blowing, people coming across the parade here, or walking on this side of Willow Street, have looked up there and seen the ghost fluttering and beckoning at the windows——”