"Are you selling?"
"Not for twice what I paid for it--now," said M'Leod. "I'll keep
you in furs all your life, but not our Holmescroft."
"No--never our Holmescroft," said Miss M'Leod. "We'll ask him
here on Tuesday, mamma." They squeezed each other's hands.
"Now tell me," said Mrs. M'Leod--"that tall one, I saw out of the
scullery window--did she tell you she was always here in the
spirit? I hate her. She made all this trouble. It was not her
house after she had sold it. What do you think?"
"I suppose," I answered, "she brooded over what she believed was
her sister's suicide night and day--she confessed she did--and
her thoughts being concentrated on this place, they felt like
a--like a burning glass."
"Burning glass is good," said M'Leod.
"I said it was like a light of blackness turned on us," cried the
girl, twiddling her ring. "That must have been when the tall one
thought worst about her sister and the house."
"Ah, the poor Aggie!" said Mrs. M'Leod. "The poor Aggie, trying
to tell every one it was not so! No wonder we felt Something
wished to say Something.
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