Free Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure by Constance Westbie, Harold Cameron Page A

"Then it was taken - really taken
-from your bathroom, filled with flowers and brought to
my room?" she demanded incredulously.
    "It was," I replied emphatically. "And none of us did id"
    Dorothy smiled. "Congratulations, Mother dear," she
said. "You have passed inspection. You must have met with
the unqualified approval of the-unseen lady who is the real
mistress of this house."
    Mother's eyes were bulging. As she continued to be speechless, I drew her to the window. "Look down there," I urged.
"There isn't a tire track or a footprint in that drive. How
could we have had flowers delivered without a vehicle leaving a trace in the snow? Just to satisfy you, Dad and I will
go down and look for tracks. We always try to find a logical
explanation when things out of the ordinary happen, but
so far we've found none. Nothing like this ever happened
beforel"

    "But Harold," she protested in a small voice. "It can't
have happened the way you think."
    "What else?" I asked gently. "I'll bet you anything that
we won't find a mark on that snow."
    Mother recovered somewhat. "I am not a betting woman,"
she reminded me with a faint smile.
    "Besides," I went on. "Where would we have gotten spring
flowers? You asked that yourself."
    Mother was finally shaken. She put both hands to her
face. "Oh, Daddy," she wailed. "We weren't alone in our
room last nightl"
    After we had thoroughly checked the grounds, leaving
clear tracks in the snow wherever we went, even my orthodox father was convinced that we had been telling the truth.
Something had happened for which he had no explanation.
He was thoughtful and sober. No longer did he look askance
at us if we happened to mention our lady. I didn't hear any
more about mass hallucinations, either.
    Whether or not my parents ever heard footsteps during
the rest of their visit I do not know. If they did, they certainly kept quiet. Our ghost was something they preferred
not to discuss. But when I told them we were having a little
trouble getting qualified, permanent help and offered what
I thought was a good proposition, we didn't see eye to eye.
    "Look, Dad," I said persuasively. "We can't keep servants. I'll pay you a good salary, plus board, if you and
Mother will stay and help out for the balance of our lease.
The grounds are a full-time job and you understand flowers
and shrubs. Mother could help Dorothy with the children
and the light housework and ..." I broke off at the expression on my mother's face.
    "Harold," she said firmly. "We would really like to help
you out, but I wouldn't live in this house for any amount
of money."

    Perhaps my mother had heard footsteps in the night,
after all.
    At the end of their visit, I saw them off on the plane.
Then I came back home and went into the library. I made
a quiet bid for attention.
    "I want to thank you," I said to our unseen lady, "for the
lovely thing you did for my mother. I feel that it could have
been a sort of apology for scaring poor Ernestine half out
of her wits. But this was a gracious gesture - those lovely
flowers were the sort of gift that a real lady would make. If
it was also an apology, I accept it-with thanks."
    Then I turned on my heel and went out, closing the door
firmly behind me. After all, I told myself, our lady deserved
her privacy.

     

Chapter 5

The Passing
Parade
    News of our haunted house leaked out at the office. It was
all my fault. I had asked many people if they had ever heard
of poltergeists or ghosts in some of the old places in Philadelphia and was instantly hit with a barrage of ghost stories.
At one time I would have scoffed, but now I was much more
tolerant. Sometimes I even told of some of our own happenings in the old mansion, hoping to get a fresh viewpoint or
a new opinion.
    There were seventeen women in the credit department
and they were all thrilled at my stories. Most of them asked
me for an invitation to visit our home.
    "It isn't that I really believe in