Free Horror at the Haunted House by Peg Kehret Page B

tea server from Lydia’s original creamware set, she heard footsteps behind her. When she looked around, no one was there. Probably one of the actors rushing down the hall, she thought, eager to get home.
    She turned back to the Wedgwood and heard the footsteps again. She remembered the man in the book, the one who had moved so many times but no matter where he went, he heard the same footsteps of a ghost. She realized that she, too, was hearing phantom footsteps, not real ones. Instead of looking behind her, she kept her eyes straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the dishes.
    Seconds later, Lydia materialized. She looked exactly the way she had looked the night before, in the same long gown. She stood at the far end of the display, with her arms outstretched.
    Instead of being scared this time, Ellen was annoyed. This was her only chance to look at the Wedgwood without having Agnes interrupt her. “What do you want?” she said.
    “Oooohhh . . . end.”
    “I’m trying to figure out what you want,” Ellen said crossly. “It would be easier if you quit popping up all the time and scaring me.”
    The ghost signaled for Ellen to come closer.
    Ellen ignored her. She continued to look at the older dishes,one piece at a time. She didn’t touch them because she was afraid she might accidentally drop one but she put her face only a foot or so away from each one and examined it carefully.
    “Aaaahhend.” The ghost motioned again, urging Ellen to the Fairylustre part of the display.
    “Hey, Ellen. Are you ready to leave?”
    She jumped at the sound of Corey’s voice and then looked quickly toward the ghost. Lydia had vanished.
    “I’ll be there in a minute,” Ellen said.
    “Are you looking at those dumb old dishes again? I don’t see what’s so great about them. If you want to look at dishes, all you have to do is open the kitchen cupboards at home.”
    “The kitchen cupboards at home do not contain anything like this,” Ellen said.
    “I’ve figured out a way to earn some money so I can have a bike,” Corey said.
    “Oh?”
    “I’m going to give screaming lessons.”
    Ellen rolled her eyes and did not answer.
    “I’ll bet there are lots of kids who would like to be able to scream as good as I do. Mighty Mike says I’m the best screamer he’s ever heard, even counting people on TV. So I decided I could charge fifty cents apiece and teach all the other kids how to scream. Nicholas is my first student.”
    “Well, don’t do it at our house,” Ellen said. It was bad enough to hear Corey practice his screaming without listening to his friends, as well.
    Ellen stood now in front of the Fairylustre. She had already studied it so many other times, she didn’t think it was what Lydia wanted to show her, but she looked again anyway, just because she liked it.
    “I can’t decide if it should be private lessons or a whole bunch of kids at once,” Corey said. “What do you think?”
    “I think . . .” Ellen stopped. “Corey,” she said. “Go get Mrs. Whittacker.”
    “You think Mrs. Whittacker would want to take screaming lessons?”
    “Just do what I say. And tell her to hurry.”
    “I wasn’t going to start the lessons tonight.”
    “Run!”
    As Corey trotted out of the dining room, Ellen kept her eyes fixed on the bottom shelf of the Fairylustre display. Her heart quickened with excitement. This must be what Lydia had been trying to tell her. This was what the ghost wanted her to see.
    In a few minutes, she heard Corey and Mrs. Whittacker returning. Corey was explaining how the screaming lessons would work.
    As soon as Mrs. Whittacker was in the dining room, Ellen dared to take her eyes off the shelf and turn around.
    “What is it?” Mrs. Whittacker said.
    “A bowl is missing.”
    “What? Are you sure?”
    “We’ve been robbed!” Corey yelled.
    Ellen pointed to the bottom shelf. “One of the Fairylustre bowls is gone,” she said. “It’s always been there, on the bottom shelf.