“Yes, the same’s walkin’ or flying’,” confirmed Matty. “Jest the same.”
“Then you can finish the story now, Matty,” said Virginia presently.
Matty settled back in her chair, closed her eyes, and began to hum.
“How far’d I tell last night?” she queried, blinking.
“Just to where the white thing was waiting for Grandpa Woggles’ spirit,” explained Virginia.
“Oh, yas. Well, round and round that house the white shadder swep’, keepin’ time to the howlin’ of other spirits in the pine trees––”
“But there aren’t any pine trees at Woggles’,” objected Virginia.
“Well, they’d be pines if they wasn’t oaks,” assured Matty. “Oaks or pines, the spirits live in ’em jest the same.”
“I ’spose so,” agreed Virginia. “Go on!”
“An’ round and round he went, meltin’ the snow with his hot feet,” mused Matty, sniffing the air. “And in the house Betty Woggles set beside the old man, holdin’ his hand, askin’ him to promise he wouldn’t die.... Hum! As if a human bein’ could keep from the stalkin’ whiteness beckonin’ from the graveyard. ’Tain’t in human power.”