Dotty insisted upon going too, though she hardly knew why, except that the prospect of some unknown horror fascinated her.

She clung to the skirt of her uncle's coat, though he would have preferred not to be hindered.

No one else, not even Horace, cared to follow.
As they entered the parlor there was the same sound from the hall, even more unearthly than ever.

Dotty had entire faith in her uncle, and was not at all alarmed till they passed through the parlor doorway, and she saw the finger-prints of blood on the panels.

Then she did tremble, and she had half a mind to draw back; but curiosity was stronger than fear.
What _could_ it be that walked into people's houses _Out West_, and groaned so in their front halls?
She must see the whole thing for herself, and be prepared to describe it to Prudy.
She soon knew what it meant.