I awoke not with a start but by slow degrees, my consciousness reviving in small, incremental stages. Unclosing my eyes, I remained, for several moments, in a state of extreme mental confusion, uncertain as to my whereabouts. Only gradually did the realization dawn upon me that I was safe in my bedroom and that, seated beside me—wringing her hands as she gazed down at my face with a look of ineffable solicitude—was my own dearest Muddy!

“Oh, Eddie!” she exclaimed in a tremulous voice. “Thank heavens that you are finally awake!”

As my bleary vision cleared, I perceived, by the attenuated quality of the daylight outside my window, that the afternoon was already well advanced. Upon inquiring as to the time, I was very much surprised to learn that I had been asleep for nearly sixteen consecutive hours—a circumstance that naturally accounted for the intense sensation of hunger of which I Quickly became conscious.

As though endowed with a preternatural faculty that enabled her to read my very thoughts, Muddy immediately declared: “Poor boy, you must be famished!” When I acknowledged the accuracy of this observation with a small, affirmative whimper, she promptly rose from her seat and bustled from the room, returning a short time later with a bowl from which wafted the indescribably delicious aroma of chicken consommé. After helping me to sit upright with my back propped against several pillows, she perched at my side on the mattress while I ate.

Thanks to the salubrious effects of Muddy’s invigorating broth, my spirits were soon restored to such an extent that—in response to her queries—I was able to provide her with a detailed, if suitably modified, account of my recent ordeal. In conformity with my earlier, well-intentioned prevarication, I explained that—having travelled through the countryside until late in the afternoon—Colonel Crockett and I had taken refuge from the threatening weather in the imposing Asher residence, whose master had kindly invited us to partake of dinner. The remainder of my story adhered closely to the truth, though I revealed nothing of my deplorable intemperance, or of my subsequent encounter with the strange, spectral female in the darkness of my room—an incident which I had also refrained from mentioning to Crockett.

I had just completed the last spoonful of broth when Sissy appeared in my room and—after taking the place of Muddy (who bustled off to begin her dinner preparations)—spent the next several hours at my bedside, beguiling me with her extensive, if not inexhaustible, repertoire of ballads, songs, humorous anecdotes, and riddles.