“Aren’t you scared, child?” demanded Jessie, in surprise.
“Course I am,” agreed the little girl. “But ha’nts chase you anywhere. They can go right through keyholes and doors––” 76
“Mercy! Whatever it is seems determined to come through that door.”
“There ain’t no keyhole to it,” said Henrietta complacently.
The banging continued at the foot of the stairs. Amy was shrieking for her chum to come out of the house. But Jessie began to be ashamed of her momentary panic.
“I’m going to see what it is,” she declared, approaching the door.
“Maybe you won’t see nothing,” said Henrietta. “Mrs. Foley says that ha’nts is sometimes just wind. You don’t see nothing. Only you feel creepy and cold fingers touch you and a chilly breath hits the back o’ your neck.”
“I declare!” exclaimed Jessie. “That Mrs. Foley ought not to tell you such things.”
She looked about for some weapon, for the sounds behind the door panels seemed to suggest something very material. There was a long hardwood stick standing in the corner. It might have been a mop handle or something of the kind. Jessie seized it, and with more courage again walked toward the door.
Bang, bang, thump! the noise was repeated. She stretched a tentative hand toward the latch. Should she lift it? Was there something supernatural on the stairway?