Folks always has their joys
and calamities as they go through the world."

Mrs. Thacher shook her head two or three times with a dismal
expression, and made no answer. She had pushed back the droning
wool-wheel which she had been using, and had taken her knitting from
the shelf by the clock and seated herself contentedly, while Mrs. Jake
and Mrs. Martin had each produced a blue yarn stocking from a
capacious pocket, and the shining steel needles were presently all
clicking together. One knitter after another would sheathe the spare
needle under her apron strings, while they asked each other's advice
from time to time about the propriety of "narrerin'" or whether it
were not best to "widden" according to the progress their respective
stockings had made. Mrs. Thacher had lighted an extra candle, and
replenished the fire, for the air was chillier since the sun went
down. They were all sure of a coming change of weather, and counted
various signs, Mrs. Thacher's lowness of spirits among the number,
while all three described various minor maladies from which they had
suffered during the day, and of which the unseasonable weather was
guilty.

"I can't get over the feeling that we are watchin' with somebody,"
said Mrs. Martin after a while, moved by some strange impulse and
looking over her shoulder, at which remark Mrs. Thacher glanced up
anxiously. "Something has been hanging over me all day," said she
simply, and at this the needles clicked faster than ever.

"We've been taking rather a low range," suggested Mrs. Jake. "We
shall get to telling over ghost stories if we don't look out, and I
for one shall be sca't to go home. By the way, I suppose you have
heard about old Billy Dow's experience night afore last, Mis'
Thacher?"

"John being away, I ain't had nobody to fetch me the news these few
days past," said the hostess. "Why what's happened to Billy now?"

The two women looked at each other: "He was getting himself home as
best he could,--he owned up to having made a lively evenin' of
it,--and I expect he was wandering all over the road and didn't know
nothin' except that he was p'inted towards home, an' he stepped off
from the high bank this side o' Dunnell's, and rolled down, over and
over; and when he come to there was a great white creatur' a-standin'
over him, and he thought 't was a ghost. 'T was higher up on the bank
than him, and it kind of moved along down's if 't was coming right on
to him, and he got on