Зима тревоги нашей

           Thehouseboiledwithnervousness,thewallsvibratedwithunease.I’vereadthatintheMiddleAgespubescentgirlswerethoughttobesusceptibletowitchcraftandI’mnotsureitisnotso.Foratimewehadwhatwecalledasajokeapoltergeist.Picturesfellfromtheirhangings,dishescrashedtothefloor.Therewerepoundingsintheatticandthumpingsinthecellar.Idon’tknowwhatcausedit,butIwasinterestedenoughtokeepmyeyeonEllen,onhersecretcomingsandgoings.Shewaslikeanightcat.Isatisfiedmyselfthatshewasnotresponsibleforthefallingsandcrashingsandthumpings,butalsoIfoundtheyneverhappenedwhenshewasoutofthehouse.Shemightbesittingstaringintospacewhenthepoltergeistcame,butshewasalwaysthere.

           AsachildIrememberhearingthattheoldHawleyhousewashauntedlongagobytheghostofoneofthepuritan-pirateancestorsbut,accordingtoaccounts,hewasadecentghostwhowalkedandwanderedandgroanedasheshould.Thestairscreakedunderhisinvisibleweightandherappedonthewallwhenadeathwasimminent,allproperandingoodtaste.Thepoltergeistwassomethingquitedifferent—malicious,malignant,andmischievousandvengeful.Heneverbrokeavaluelessthing.Thenhewentaway.Ineverreallybelievedinhim.Hewasafamilyjoke,exceptthattherehewasandtherewerethebrokenpicturesandshatteredchina.

           Whenheleft,Ellenbeganwalkinginhersleepasshewasnow.Icouldhearherslowbutcertainfootstepsgoingdownstairs.