A figure had appeared in the garden beyond the gate. But the one who walked alone was not a ghost. Plainly he was garbed in street clothes rather than white. Over his suit he wore a heavy overcoat. A snap-brimmed hat was pulled low on his forehead.
Penny could not see the man’s face, but the silhouette seemed strangely familiar.
“That looks like Dad!” she whispered, clutching Louise’s hand. “It is he! I’m sure!”
“Oh, it can’t be—”
Penny paid no heed to her chum’s protest. Breaking away, she ran toward the gate.
The man in the garden became suddenly alert. As he heard the approaching footsteps he gazed toward the road. Upon seeing Penny he started to retreat.
“Wait!” she called frantically. “Don’t you know me, Dad? It’s Penny!”
The words seemed to convey nothing to the man. He shook his head in a baffled sort of way, and walked swiftly toward the house.
Penny ran on to the gate. It was locked, but she vaulted over, landing in a heap on the other side. By the time she had picked herself up, the man had vanished into the house.
“Are you hurt?” Louise cried, hurrying to the gate.