you-all hear somethin'?"

Judith was staring at the candle flame and made no reply. Her big dark
eyes had the look of one self-hypnotised.

"Oh, Lordy! Ye ortn't to talk at a dumb supper--but I thort I hearn
somebody walkin' out thar in the rain!" chattered Pendrilla.

The old house creaked and groaned in the rising autumn storm, as old
houses do. The rain drummed on the roof like fingers tapping. The wind
stripped dry leaves from the bough, or scooped them up out of the hollows
where they lay, and carried them across the window, or drove them along
the porch, in a gliding, whispering flight that was infinitely eerie.

In their terror the girls looked to Judith. They saw that she was not
with them. Her gaze was on the pin in the candle. Back over her heart
swept the sweetness of her first meeting with Creed. She could see him
stand talking to her, the lifted face, the blue eyes--should she ever see
them again?

Then suddenly the flame twisted and bent, the tallow melted swiftly on
one side, and Judith's pin fell to the floor.

"Hit's a-comin'!" hissed Cliantha frantically.

"Oh, Lord! I wish 't we hadn't--" Pendrilla moaned.

The dog uttered a protesting sound between a growl and a yelp. He raised
on his forelegs, and the hair of his head and neck bristled.

Outside, a heavy stumbling step came up the walk. It halted at the
half-open door. That door was flung back, and in the square of dripping
darkness stood Creed Bonbright, his face death white, his eyes wide and
fixed, the rain gemming his uncovered yellow hair.

A moment he stood so, and the three stared at him. Then with a swish of
leaves in the wind and a spatter of rain in their faces, the candle blew
out. The girls screamed and sprang up. The hound backed into his corner
and barked furiously. Whatever it was, it had crossed the threshold and
was in the room with them.

"Jude--Jude!" shrieked Cliantha. "Run! Come on, Pendrilly!"

Judith felt a wavering wet hand fumbling toward her in the darkness. It
clasped hers; the arm went around her; she raised her face, and the cold
lips of the visitant met her warm tremulous ones.

For an instant she had no thought but that Creed had returned from the
dead to claim her--and she was willing to go. Then she was aware of a
swift rush, as the fleeing girls went past them, and the patter of the
hound's feet following. Slowly the newcomer's weight sagged against her;
he crumpled and went to the floor, dragging her