ed you to remain here a night if
there had been. No ghost will visit you."

"No, I hear they never wander above the second story," I laughed. "If
they did I should hardly anticipate the honor of a visit. It is not
ghosts I fear; it is something quite different which affects
me,--living eyes, living passions, the old ladies next door," I finished
falteringly, for Mrs. Packard was looking at me with a show of startling
alarm. "They stare into my room night and day. I never look out but I
encounter the uncanny glance of one or the other of them. Are they live
women or embodied memories of the past? They don't seem to belong to the
present. I own that they frighten me."

I had exaggerated my feelings in order to mark their effect upon her.
The result disappointed me; she was not afraid of these two poor old
women. Far from it.

"Draw your curtains," she laughed. "The poor things are crazy and not
really accountable. Their odd ways and manners troubled me at first, but
I soon got over it. I have even been in to see them. That was to keep
them from coming here. I think if you were to call upon them they would
leave you alone after that. They are very fond of being called on. They
are persons of the highest gentility, you know. They owned this house
a few years ago, as well as the one they are now living in, but
misfortunes overtook them and this one was sold for debt. I am very
sorry for them myself. Sometimes I think they have not enough to eat."

"Tell me about them," I urged. Lightly as she treated the topic I
felt convinced that these strange neighbors of hers were more or less
involved in the mystery of her own peculiar moods and unaccountable
fears.

"It's a great secret," she announced naively. "That is, their personal
history. I have never told it to any one. I have never told it to
my husband. They confided it to me in a sort of desperation, perhaps
because my husband's name inspired them with confidence. Immediately
after, I could see that they regretted the impulse, and so I have
remained silent. But I feel like telling you; feel as if it would divert
me to do so--keep me from thinking of other things. You won't want to
talk about it and the story will cure your nervousness."

"Do you want me to promise not to talk about it?" I inquired in some
anxiety.

"No. You have a good, true face; a face which immediately inspires
confidence. I shall exact no promises. I can rely on your judgment."

I thanked her. I