"He's daid! Yer pa's daid!" shivered Matty. "And the house is full of spirits. They're standin' grinnin' in the corners. I'm goin' hum now, little missy. I'm goin' to my ole man. You'd better come along fer to-night."
Jinnie heard the moaning call of the pine trees as the winter's voice swept through them,--the familiar sound she loved, yet at which she trembled. Confused thoughts rolled through her mind; her father's fear for her; his desire that she should seek another home. She could not stay in Mottville Corners; she could not go with Matty. No, of course not! Yet her throat filled with longing sobs, for the old colored woman had been with her many years.
By this time Matty had tied on her scarf, opened the door, and as Virginia saw her disappear, she sank limply to the floor. Milly Ann rubbed her yellow back against her young mistress's dress. Virginia caught her in her arms and drew her close.
"Kitty, kitty," she sobbed, "I've got to go! He said I could take you and your babies, and I will, I will! I won't leave you here with the spirits."
She rose unsteadily to her feet and went to the cupboard, where she found a large pail. Into this she folded a roller towel. She then lifted the kittens from the box behind the stove and placed them in the pail, first pressing her lips lovingly to each warm, wriggley little body. Milly Ann cuddled contentedly with her offspring as the girl covered them up.
Jinnie had suddenly grown older, for a responsibility rested upon her which no one else could assume.
To go forth into the blizzard meant she must wrap up warmly. This she did. Then she wrapped a small brown fiddle in her jacket, took the pail and went to the door. There she stood, considering a moment, with her hand on the knob. With no further hesitancy she placed the kittens and fiddle gently on the floor, and went to the stairs. The thought of the spirits made her shiver. She saw long shadows making lines here and there, and had no doubt but that these were the ghosts Matty had seen. She closed her eyes tightly and began to ascend the stairs, feeling her way along the wall. At the top she opened reluctant lids. The library door stood ajar as Matty had left it, and the room appeared quite the same as it had a few moments before, save for the long figure of a man lying full length before the grate. That eternal period, that awful stop which puts a check on human lives, had settled once and for all the earthly concerns of her father. The space between her and the body seemed peopled with spectral beings, which moved to and fro in the dimly lit room. Her father lay on his back, the flames from the fire making weird red and yellow twisting streaks on his white, upturned face.