And it certainly had nothing to do with the wholesome odor of hay
and cow feed, or the smell of whitewash and oiled tools.
"Yes, you were dreaming." Alicia began to edge the colored women
toward the doors. "But as you've had a scare," she added pleasantly,
"I'll give you a new lace collar, Queenasheeba, and you a red
ribbon, Fernolia, to wear to church next Sunday, just to prove to
you that being awake is heaps better than having nightmares."
We padlocked the big doors after us, and went through the rooms
up-stairs. They, too, had been freshly cleaned and calcimined. And
they, too, were quite empty.
Despite which, Fernolia and Queenasheeba were firmly, tearfully,
shiveringly certain they had seen nothing less than ol' Mis'
Scarlett's ha'nt. They had the worst possible opinion of ol' Miss
Scarlett: she had been bad enough living--but as a spook! We had to
let them lug their bedding over and sleep in the room next to ours;
we had to give them sweet lavender to quiet their nerves. I am sure
they would have bolted incontinently if they hadn't been too scared
to venture outside.
"If I could catch that ghost I'd shake it!" declared Alicia.
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