Wilfred stood and said, “I’m going to see if Old Tom needs help,” and ran outdoors, too. Then when Zebediah saw them running around like maniacs in the rain, he decided to run out and be an airplane among them and was flying through the mud, his arms extended, making buzzing sounds. Tag and Molly were galloping past him one way as Old Tom drove them into the barn, and the cows were driven by Sina another way and I watched in fascination, wondering if something terrible wasn’t about to happen. It certainly looked chaotic, but the sense of foreboding could equally have been from the drop in barometric pressure, which always makes for a pleasantly ominous atmosphere.

Winifred leapt up and said, “This is my chance. I’m going to search for Daddy’s letter!”

I could hear her taking the stairs two at a time up to Zebediah’s room. I had just started to gather the dishes to take into the kitchen, where Gladys was already up to her elbows in soapsuds, when I felt a draft blowing through the dining room. I froze and put the dishes down again. At first I thought the draft came from the fireplace, but then I realized it was unlikely as we never used that fireplace and when I checked the flue it was tightly shut. Then I thought someone might have left the front door open, but when I looked into the front hall I could see that it was closed. There was an odd chill in the air. A dead chill, I thought in retrospect, but that was only after. I had never felt such a chill. As I stood there wondering what was causing it, the dining room curtains shut on their own. The window they covered was closed, the outside wind had not permeated inside, and anyhow, no wind could have caused two sides of the curtains to pull together. I didn’t scream. As I found out, you don’t when your brain simply cannot process quickly enough what it is seeing. And then, terrifyingly, I felt something like icy fingers on my shoulder and a second later I saw it—a white blur passed through the room. Suddenly I grasped the situation. It could be only one thing. And I ran to the front door yelling before my thoughts had even gelled, “Ghost! Ghost!”

In my hysteria, I became convinced that the ghost was keeping me prisoner. We have a sliding bolt lock, and I pushed and pushed the bolt to the open position to no avail. Why did the ghost not want me to leave? What did it plan to do with me? I continued screaming, “Ghost! Ghost!” and just as Gladys ran into the front hall, I realized the reason the bolt wouldn’t slide any farther to the left was that it was already open and unlocked. I grabbed the doorknob, flung the door wide, and ran past Zebediah, still pretending to be an airplane, screaming, “Ghost! Ghost! Ghost!”