It had filled his mind,
subconsciously, ever since he had slipped quickly in front of his brother
Jack to open the front door to Mrs. Crofton, a couple of hours ago.
Mrs. Crofton was very much of a town lady, and she had actually been
accompanied, during her short progress through the dark village, by her
parlourmaid. When Timmy opened the front door, she had been engaged in
giving the girl a few last directions as to how a lighted candle was to
be left out for her in her hall, for she had brought her latchkey with
her. After ringing the bell, the lady and her maid had moved away from
the door a little way, and Timmy, staring out at the two figures, who
stood illumined by the hall light out on the gravel carriage drive, had
seen Something Else.
He did not invariably see Mrs. Crofton accompanied or companioned by that
of which he had spoken to his mother. Sometimes days would go by and he
would see nothing, though he was a constant, if never a welcome, visitor
at The Trellis House.
Then all at once, sometimes when she was in the garden, at other times
in the charming little parlour, Timmy would see the wraith of Colonel
Crofton, and the wraith of Colonel Crofton's terrier, Dandy, looking as
real as the flesh-and-blood woman beside whom they seemed to stand.
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