She looked intently, her work
suspended in her hands. Then she looked away again and took a few
more stitches, then she looked again, and again turned to her task.
At last she laid her work in her lap and stared concentratedly.
She looked from the wall around the room, taking note of the
various objects; she looked at the wall long and intently. Then
she turned to her sisters.
"What IS that?" said she.
"What?" asked Caroline harshly; her pen scratched loudly across the
paper.
Rebecca gave one of her convulsive gasps.
"That strange shadow on the wall," replied Mrs. Brigham.
Rebecca sat with her face hidden: Caroline dipped her pen in the
inkstand.
"Why don't you turn around and look?" asked Mrs. Brigham in a
wondering and somewhat aggrieved way.
"I am in a hurry to finish this letter, if Mrs. Wilson Ebbit is
going to get word in time to come to the funeral," replied Caroline
shortly.
Mrs. Brigham rose, her work slipping to the floor, and she began
walking around the room, moving various articles of furniture, with
her eyes on the shadow.
Then suddenly she shrieked out:
"Look at this awful shadow! What is it? Caroline, look, look!
Rebecca, look! WHAT IS IT?"
All Mrs.
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