t peasant frighten you again, dear? Oh, I am so sorry I left
you;" for my mind at once reverted to the man whom Reggie had shaken his
fist at that morning.

"No, no; not that. I would not have minded. But, mamma, Reggie must
never know it--he is so little, he could not bear it--mamma, it was
_not_ a man. It was--oh, mamma, I have seen a _ghost_!"

PART II

"A ghost," I repeated, holding the poor trembling little thing more
closely. I think my first sensation was a sort of rage at whomever or
whatever--ghost or living being--had frightened her so terribly. "Oh,
Nora darling, it couldn't be a ghost. Tell me about it, and I will try
to find out what it was. Or would you rather try to forget about it just
now, and tell me afterwards? You are shivering so dreadfully. I _must_
get you warm first of all."

"But let me tell you, mamma--I _must_ tell you," she entreated
piteously. "If you _could_ explain it, I should be so glad, but I am
afraid you can't," and again a shudder passed through her.

I saw it was better to let her tell it. I had by this time drawn her
inside; a door in front stood open, and a bright fire caught my eyes.
It was the kitchen, and the most inviting-looking room in the house. I
peeped in--there was no one there, but from an inner room we heard the
voice of the landlady hushing her baby to sleep.

"Come to the fire, Nora," I said. Just then Reggie came clattering
downstairs, followed by Lieschen, the taciturn "maid of the inn."

"She has taken a candle upstairs, mamma, but I've not taken off my
boots, for there's a little calf, she says, in the stable, and she's
going to show it me. May I go?"

"Yes, but don't stay long," I said, my opinion of the sombre Lieschen
improving considerably; and when they were out of hearing, "Now, Nora
dear, tell me what frightened you so."

"Mamma," she said, a little less white and shivering by now, but still
with the strange strained look in her eyes that I could not bear to see,
"it _couldn't_ have been a real man. Listen, mamma. When you and Reggie
went, I got out a needle and thread--out of your little bag--and first
I mended a hole in my glove, and then I took off one of my boots--the
buttoning-up-the-side ones, you know--to sew a button on. I soon
finished it, and then, without putting my boot on, I sat there, looking
out of the window and wondering if you and Reggie would soon be back.
Then I thought perhaps I could see if you were coming, better from the