Virginia reached behind the stove and drew Milly Ann from her bed.

“Father”—Jinnie enjoyed using the word and spoke it lingeringly—“says he wishes he’d stayed here now. You know, my Uncle Jordan, Matty––” She hesitated to confide in the negro woman what her father had told her. So she contented herself with:

“He’s coming here soon.”

Matty rolled her eyes toward the girl.

“I’se sorry for that, honey bunch.” Then, without explaining her words, asked: “Want me to finish about Jonathan Woggles’ grandpa dyin’?”

But Virginia’s mind was traveling in another channel.

“Where’s Bellaire, Matty?” she demanded.

“Off south,” replied the woman, “right bearin’ south.”

“By train?” 29

29

“Yes, the same’s walkin’ or flying’,” confirmed Matty. “Jest the same.”

“Then you can finish the story now, Matty,” said Virginia presently.

Matty settled back in her chair, closed her eyes, and began to hum.

“How far’d I tell last night?” she queried, blinking.

“Just to where the white thing was waiting for Grandpa Woggles’ spirit,” explained Virginia.

“Oh, yas. Well, round and round that house the white shadder swep’, keepin’ time to the howlin’ of other spirits in the pine trees––”

“But there aren’t any pine trees at Woggles’,” objected Virginia.

“Well, they’d be pines if they wasn’t oaks,” assured Matty. “Oaks or pines, the spirits live in ’em jest the same.”

“I ’spose so,” agreed Virginia. “Go on!”

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