Slowly the key turned. Jannet fairly held her breath. The door was softly opened and closed. So much Jannet knew in spite of the rain, to whose drippings her ears were now accustomed.
Next, a faint shaded light showed, “so she won’t trip on the attic floor,” Jannet decided, but it was not pleasant. A ghostly white figure, showing dimly in the tiny light, moved from the door to the center of the space where the girls were. A low moaning began. “Her,” thought Jannet, setting her teeth. “It isn’t Jan, then, not this time. She’s got a sheet over her.”
But it was not a sheet, as Jannet soon saw, when filmy, scarf-like draperies floated out and the figure whirled past, moving back and forth, not far enough from the door for Jannet to risk darting between the Ghost and the exit, as she thought of doing, though it might seem to be deserting Nell to the enemy. But Jannet wanted freedom, and help to find out who was this ghost.
“What are you, most noble ancestress?” suddenly queried Jannet, trying to keep the mocking note from her voice.
At this the ghost retreated, for Jannet had descended from her chair, and Nell, startled awake, gave one cry and sprang up. “Come here, Nell,” soothingly said Jannet, “it’s only our family ghost, poor thing.” Then she whispered, as Nell reached her, “get outside the door and keep it open for me; but if she is harmless, I may try to catch her.”
“For pity’s sake, don’t!” whispered Nell, half awake. But she obeyed Jannet, running for the door as if a dozen ghosts were after her. The ghost started to follow, but as Jannet’s very palpable figure put itself in the way, the ghost changed its mind and retreated still farther into the attic. Jannet began to follow it, slowly, but steadily, not using her flashlight but grasping it firmly in her right hand for use either in its legitimate line or as a weapon, should the ghost make attack.
The moaning increased and the occasional sobs, with writhings and bendings, as the ghost floated backward now. “Nice Ghostie,—does pretty dance for Jannet!” And suddenly Jannet flashed her light full on the figure, rapidly taking it in from head to foot. No shadow was this, to be seen through, and a very stout pair of low shoes were not well concealed under the filmy draperies.
Obviously the ghost was not prepared for a flashlight. Immediately the figure whirled about, the light disappearing as it was held in front of her. Jannet could see the faint light ahead on the floor, but she lost no time in following it. It was difficult, though, to make time without being familiar with the place in the dark and to illumine both the floor at her feet and the flying figure of the ghost, who knew where she was going. All at once Jannet stumbled over a pile of carpet and fell, scraping her elbow and losing hold of her flashlight, which fell somewhere with a crash.
“Nell,” Jannet called, “lock the door on this side, and leave the key in it, and then come to me slowly, seeing that no one passes you. I’ve lost my flashlight.”
Nell had heard the crash and now most thoroughly awake, she took the key which had locked them in, though Jannet had pressed her bunch of keys into her hand before, locked the door on the inside as directed, and came waving her flashlight from side to side. “Isn’t a soul that I can see, Jannet,” she said, “What has become of the ghost?”