linds and the wind--"

"Hush! It wasn't the wind. Don't you suppose I know? I thought it was
the wind or my imagination at first. But I laid there and listened and I
kept hearing it. Finally I got up and lit my lamp; and still I heard it.
It was snoring and it didn't come from the room I was in. It came from
the little back room I'd made into a study."

Thankful's smile faded. She was conscious of a curious prickling at
the roots of her black hair. The back bedroom! The room in which Laban
Eldredge died! The room in which she herself had heard--

"I went into that room," continued Miss Timpson. "I don't know how I
ever did it, but I did. I looked everywhere, but there was nobody there,
not a sign of anybody. And still that dreadful snoring kept on and on.
And then I realized--" with a shudder, "I realized what I hadn't noticed
before; that room was exactly the size and shape of the one Medora and
I used to sleep in. Mrs. Barnes, it was Medora's spirit that had come to
me. Do you wonder I can't stay here any longer?"

Thankful fought with her feelings. She put a hand on the back of her
neck and rubbed vigorously. "Nonsense!" she declared, bravely. "You
imagined it. Nonsense! Whoever heard of a snorin' ghost?"

But Miss Timpson only shook her head. "Good-by, Thankful," she said. "I
shan't tell anybody; as I said, I didn't mean to tell you. If--if you
hear that anything's happened to me--happened sudden, you know--you'll
understand. You can tell Imogene and Mr. Daniels and Mr. Hammond that
I--that I've gone visiting to my cousin Sarah's. That'll be true,
anyway. Good-by. You MAY see me again in this life, but I doubt it."

She hurried away along the path. Thankful reentered the house and stood
in the middle of the kitchen floor, thinking. Then she walked steadily
to the foot of the back stairs, ascended them, and walked straight
to the apartments so recently occupied by the schoolmistress. Miss
Timpson's trunks were there and the greater part of her belongings. Mrs.
Barnes did not stop to look at these. She crossed the larger room and
entered the little back bedroom.

The clouds were breaking and the light of the November sun shone in. The
little room was almost cheerful. There were no sounds except those from
without, the neigh of George Washington from his stall, the cackle of
the hens, the hungry grunts of Patrick Henry, the pig, in his sty beside
the kitchen.

Thankful looked and listened. Then she made a caref