Meserve. "I know you wouldn't say so."
"And I wouldn't tell it to a soul if you didn't want me to."
"Well, I'd rather you wouldn't."
"I won't speak of it even to Mr. Emerson."
"I'd rather you wouldn't even to him."
"I won't."
Mrs. Emerson took up her dress skirt again; Mrs. Meserve hooked up
another loop of blue wool. Then she begun:
"Of course," said she, "I ain't going to say positively that I
believe or disbelieve in ghosts, but all I tell you is what I saw.
I can't explain it. I don't pretend I can, for I can't. If you
can, well and good; I shall be glad, for it will stop tormenting me
as it has done and always will otherwise. There hasn't been a day
nor a night since it happened that I haven't thought of it, and
always I have felt the shivers go down my back when I did."
"That's an awful feeling," Mrs. Emerson said.
"Ain't it? Well, it happened before I was married, when I was a
girl and lived in East Wilmington. It was the first year I lived
there. You know my family all died five years before that. I told
you."
Mrs. Emerson nodded.
"Well, I went there to teach school, and I went to board with a
Mrs.
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