Was there something like that in this house--a shadow walking the corridors--a vague shape of evil, drifting like mist from room to room, till its cold breath whispered on one's back and--there! She had ruined her knitting, the last two rows would have to be ripped out.

That came of mooning about ghosts like a ninny.
She put down the knitting with an exasperated little gesture.

Lizzie had just finished her telephoning and was hanging up the receiver.
"Well, Lizzie ?" "Yes'm," said the latter, glaring at the phone.

"That's what he says--they turned off the lights last night because there was a storm threatening.

He says it burns out their fuses if they leave 'em on in a storm." A louder roll of thunder punctuated her words.
"There!" said Lizzie.