Cordelia had hung out the wash there for four Mondays, and this was
the fifth. The breakfast was about half finished--they had reached the
buckwheat cakes--when this maid came rushing into the dining-room and
stood regarding them, speechless, with a countenance indicative of the
utmost horror. She was deadly pale. Her hands, sodden with soapsuds,
hung twitching at her sides in the folds of her calico gown; her very
hair, which was light and sparse, seemed to bristle with fear. All the
Townsends turned and looked at her. David and George rose with a
half-defined idea of burglars.

"Cordelia Battles, what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Townsend. Adrianna
gasped for breath and turned as white as the maid. "What is the
matter?" repeated Mrs. Townsend, but the maid was unable to speak.
Mrs. Townsend, who could be peremptory, sprang up, ran to the
frightened woman and shook her violently. "Cordelia Battles, you
speak," said she, "and not stand there staring that way, as if you were
struck dumb! What is the matter with you?"

Then Cordelia spoke in a fainting voice.

"There's--somebody else--hanging out clothes--in the vacant lot," she
gasped, and clutched at a chair for support.

"Who?" cried Mrs. Townsend, rousing to indignation, for already she had
assumed a proprietorship in the vacant lot. "Is it the folks in the
next house? I'd like to know what right they have! We are next to
that vacant lot."

"I--dunno--who it is," gasped Cordelia. "Why, we've seen that girl
next door go to mass every morning," said Mrs. Townsend. "She's got a
fiery red head. Seems as if you might know her by this time, Cordelia."

"It ain't that girl," gasped Cordelia. Then she added in a
horror-stricken voice, "I couldn't see who 'twas."

They all stared.

"Why couldn't you see?" demanded her mistress. "Are you struck blind?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then why couldn't you see?"

"All I could see was--" Cordelia hesitated, with an expression of the
utmost horror.

"Go on," said Mrs. Townsend, impatiently.

"All I could see was the shadow of somebody, very slim, hanging out the
clothes, and--"

"What?"

"I could see the shadows of the things flappin' on their line."

"You couldn't see the clothes?"

"Only the shadow on the ground."

"What kind of clothes were they?"

"Queer," replied Cordelia, with a shudder.

"If I didn't know you so well, I should think you had been drinking,"
said Mrs. Townsend. "Now, Cordelia Battles,