Fanshawe's own chamber, whose window showed some nine feet above. The maid's room was next. The northern wall was flush with the front of the house, which was decorated with a portico two stories in height. Above that was the sloping roof.
"I've seen it walking up and down many a time, from my window over there," said Genevieve. "It always disappears in the bushes over there," and she pointed to the southern wall. "Once I saw it on the very top of the roof, waving its arms. Yes, it almost always carries a baby, and it's always in white, shroudlike. It always scares me stiff; but I won't leave Miss Fanshawe for it nor anything like it."
"It's a queer thing that you and John are the only ones here who have ever seen it," said Valeska, looking at her fixedly.
"Oh, the cook has seen it, many's the time," said Genevieve.
"But the cook left."
"Yes, and good reason why, too! It came at her with a run once, and like to scratch her eyes out."
"It's queer that Miss Fanshawe has never seen it."
"Ah, and I hope she never will, the poor dear! It'll be for no good if she does. It comes to warn her, I'm thinking."
John the stableman's tale was almost the same. He, too, had seen the ghost on the roof of the house, and running swiftly along the garden walk, and often with the baby. In the year he had been employed at Fanshawe Farm he had seen it, he thought, at least a dozen times. He appeared to share Genevieve's superstitious terrors and had never dared to pursue the specter.
