their drowned crews on their decks, if that shrouding fog could suddenly be drawn aside. I feel as if it concealed innumerable mysteries—as if I were surrounded by the wraiths of old generations of Four Winds people peering at me through that gray veil. If ever the dear dead ladies of this little house came back to revisit it they would come on just such a night as this. If I sit here any longer I’ll see one of them there opposite me in Gilbert’s chair. This place isn’t exactly canny tonight. Even Gog and Magog have an air of pricking up their ears to hear the footsteps of unseen guests. I’ll run over to see Leslie before I frighten myself with my own fancies, as I did long ago in the matter of the Haunted Wood. I’ll leave my house of dreams to welcome back its old inhabitants. My fire will give them my good-will and greeting—they will be gone before I come back, and my house will be mine once more. Tonight I am sure it is keeping a tryst with the past.”
Laughing a little over her fancy, yet with something of a creepy sensation in the region of her spine, Anne kissed her hand to Gog and Magog and slipped out into the fog, with some of the new magazines under her arm for Leslie.
“Leslie’s wild for books and magazines,” Miss Cornelia had told her, “and she hardly ever sees one. She can’t afford to buy them or subscribe for them. She’s really pitifully poor, Anne. I don’t see how she makes out to live at all on the little rent the farm
