"
"Well, I would," said the widow, "and I'm going to."
When Mrs. Simmons went to the southwest chamber that night she cast
a glance at the bed-hanging and the easy chair. There were the
peacocks on the blue ground. She gave a contemptuous thought to
Eliza Lippincott.
"I don't believe but she's getting nervous," she thought. "I
wonder if any of her family have been out at all."
But just before Mrs. Simmons was ready to get into bed she looked
again at the hangings and the easy chair, and there were the red
roses on the yellow ground instead of the peacocks on the blue.
She looked long and sharply. Then she shut her eyes, and then
opened them and looked. She still saw the red roses. Then she
crossed the room, turned her back to the bed, and looked out at the
night from the south window. It was clear and the full moon was
shining. She watched it a moment sailing over the dark blue in its
nimbus of gold. Then she looked around at the bed hangings. She
still saw the red roses on the yellow ground.
Mrs. Simmons was struck in her most vulnerable point. This apparent
contradiction of the reasonable as manifested in such a commonplace
thing as chintz of a bed-hanging affected this ordinarily
unimaginative woman as no ghostly appearance could have done.
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