"Do you never see her except in the morning?"
"Once or twice she has just put her head out of the door of the middle state-room when I was waitin' on table."
"In broad daylight?"
"Sartin. Them as sees ghosts sees 'em any time. Every morning, just at peep o' day, she comes out of that door and makes a dive for the stairs. She just gives me one look, and holds up her hand, and I don't see no more of her till next time."
"How does she look?" I almost hoped he would not tell, but he did.
"She's got hair as black as a coal, kind o' pushed back, as if she'd been runnin' her hands through it; she has big shiny eyes, swelled up as she'd been cryin' a great while; and she's always got on a gray dress, silvery-like, with a tear in one sleeve. There ain't nothin' more, only a handkerchief tied round her wrist, as if it had been hurt."
"Is she handsome?"
"Mebbe white folks'd think so."
"Why does she show herself to you and no one else, do you suppose?"
"Didn't I tell you the reason before?"