"I say, Eunice, there"s lots of things to do. I think I ought to telephone the club, and several people. Do you mind?"
"No; of course not. Do whatever is right, Mason. I"m so glad to have you here, it takes a load of responsibility off of me. You"re a tower of strength."
"Then do what you can to help me, Eunice. Try, won"t you, to be quiet and calm. Don"t get so wrought up over these things that are unpleasant but unavoidable. I don"t underrate your grief or your peculiarly hard position. The nervous shock is enough to make you ill--but try to control yourself--that"s a goody girl."
"I will, Mason. Honest I will."
Soon after noon Hendricks arrived. He had returned from Boston on an early morning train, and hearing of the tragedy, came at once to the Embury home.
At sight of his grave, sympathetic face, Eunice burst into tears, the first she had been able to shed, and they were a real relief to her overburdened heart.
"Oh, Alvord," she cried, hysterically, "now you can be president!"
"Hush, hush, Eunice, dear," he soothed her; "don"t let"s speak of that now. I"m just in from Boston--I hurried over as soon as I heard. Tell me, somebody--not you, Eunice--you tell me, Aunt Abby, how it happened."
"That"s the strange part," said Elliott, who was sitting at the telephone, and was, at the moment, waiting for a response to a call, "the doctors can"t tell what ailed Sanford!"
"What! Can"t tell what made him die!"
"No;" Aunt Abby took up the tale, as Elliott turned hack to the telephone; "and I think it"s very queer. Did you ever know a man to die, Alvord, and n.o.body be able to tell what killed him?"
"I certainly never did! What had he eaten?"
"Oh, it"s nothing like that," Eunice spoke up; "it must be that something gave way--his heart, or lungs--"
"Never! Sanford was a sound as a dollar!"
"That"s what Dr. Harper says. They"re--they"re going to have an autopsy."
"Of course. We"d never be satisfied without that. They"ll find the cause that way, of course. Dear Eunice, I"m so sorry for you."
"It"s awful for Eunice," said Aunt Abby "the excitement and the mystery--oh, Alvord, do let me tell you what I saw!"
"What?" he asked, with interest.
"Why, it was almost dawn--just beginning to be daylight, and, you know--Dr. Harper says Sanford died about daybreak--he thinks--and I was sort of between asleep and awake--don"t you know how you are like that sometimes--"
"Yes."
"And I saw--"
"Aunt Abby, if you"re going to tell that yarn over again, I"ll go away!
I can"t stand it!"
"Go on, Eunice," and Aunt Abby spoke gently. "I wish you would go to your room and lie down for awhile. Even if you don"t want to, it will rest your nerves."
To her surprise, Eunice rose and without a word went to her own room.
Aunt Abby sent Maggie to look after her, and resumed her story.
"I"m going to tell you, Alvord, for I must tell somebody, and Eunice won"t listen, and Mason is busy telephoning--he"s been at it all day--off and on--"
"Fire away, Aunt Abby, dear," Hendricks said. He had small desire to hear her meandering tales, but he felt sorry for the pathetic face she showed and listened out of sheer charity.
"Yes, it was near dawn, and I was sort of dozing but yet, awake, too--and I heard a step--no, not a step, just a sort of gliding footfall, like a person shufing in slippers.
"And then, I saw a vague shadowy shape--like Sanford"s--and it pa.s.sed slowly through the room--not stepping, more like floating--and it stopped right at my bedside, and leaned over me--"
"You saw this!"
"Well, it was so dark, I can"t say I saw it--but I was--I don"t know how to describe it--I was conscious of its presence, that"s all!"
"And you think it was Sanford"s ghost?"
"Don"t put it that way, Al. It was Sanford"s spirit, leaving the earth, and bidding me good-by as it wafted past."
"Why didn"t he bid his wife good-by?" Hendricks was blunt, but he deemed it best to speak thus, rather than to encourage the ghost talk.
"He probably tried to, but Eunice must have been asleep. I don"t know as to that--but, you know, Alvord, it is not an uncommon thing for such experiences to happen--why, there are thousands of authenticated cases--"
"Authenticated fiddlesticks!"
"Your scorn doesn"t alter the truth. I saw him, I tell you, and it was not a dream, or my imagination. I really saw him, though dimly."
"What did he have on?"
"That"s the queer part. Not his usual clothes, but that sort of a jersey he wears when he"s doing his exercise."
"Oh, his gym suit? You saw it plainly?"
"Not so very plainly--but--I felt it!"
"Felt it! What are you talking about?"
"I did, I tell you. He leaned over me, and I put out my hand and touched his arm, and I--I think I felt a tight woolen jersey sleeve."
"Oh, you think you did! Well, that"s all right, then, but you mustn"t say you felt a ghost. They"re not material, you know."
"You"re making fun of me, Alvord, but you mustn"t. I know more about these things than you do. Why shouldn"t I? I"ve made a study of them--I"ve read lots of books, and been to lots of seances, and lectures--oh, I know it was a manifestation of San himself!"
"Well, Aunt Abby, if it gives you any comfort to think it was, why, just keep right on thinking. I don"t say there aren"t such happenings.
I only say I don"t believe there are. I don"t doubt your word, you understand, but I can"t make my hard common sense take it in. My mind isn"t built that way. Did you hear anything?"
"I heard--" Aunt Abby paused, and blushed a little--"you"ll laugh, I know, but I heard--his watch ticking!"
"Oh, come now, Aunt Abby, that"s a little too much! I can"t help smiling at that! For I"m sure ghosts don"t carry watches, and anyway not in a gymnasium suit!"
"I knew you"d jeer at it, but I did hear the ticking, all the same."