Free The Ghost of Crutchfield Hall by Mary Downing Hahn Page B

pedestal.
    Sophia studied the snowman. “He needs a carrot for his nose and lumps of coal for his eyes and mouth. Run to the kitchen and come right back. Promise.”
    Obediently I darted through the snow and into the warmth of the kitchen. Stuffing a handful of coal into my pocket, I grabbed a carrot from the table.
    â€œHere,” Mrs. Dawson said. “Where are you going with that carrot? I just pared it for tonight’s stew.”
    â€œIt’s for the snowman we’re building in the garden.”
    â€œâ€˜We’?” Mrs. Dawson looked at me in surprise. “You and who else? If Nellie is out there playing, you tell her to get herself inside. She has work to do.”
    A bit rattled by my slip, I shook my head. Mrs. Dawson would not want to hear about Sophia, waiting impatiently for me. “I’m building it. Just me. I don’t know why I said ‘we.’”
    Mrs. Dawson held out an unpeeled carrot and I returned the one she’d pared. “Your lips are blue with cold, child. Stay inside a bit and warm up. The snowman can wait for his nose.”
    â€œNo, I promised I’d be right back.”
    â€œPromised who?”
    Without answering, I slipped out the door and ran to the garden. I didn’t dare keep Sophia waiting.
    â€œYou took your time,” Sophia said.
    She watched me add the snowman’s eyes, mouth, and nose. “No, no,” she said crossly. “He mustn’t smile.”
    Snatching the lumps of coal, Sophia rearranged them and stood back, with a grin. She’d transformed my creation. With frowning brows and a grim, downturned mouth, he stared at me. He was fearsome, almost as frightening as Sophia herself.
    â€œPerfect.” She smiled and stepped back to admire her creature. “It will give everyone a start to see him standing here exactly where I built mine.”
    Suddenly she tensed as a cat does when it hears something no one else does. “Hide,” she cried. “He’s coming!”
    Frightened, I followed Sophia into the yew trees around the fountain and huddled under the snowy branches. “Who’s coming?” I whispered.
    There was no answer. Sophia had vanished.
    â€œWho be here?” Spratt called. “Come out and show yerself.”
    With some embarrassment, I crawled out from the yew tree. In doing so, I brushed against a branch that then dumped its load of snow on my head.
    â€œWell, it be hard to say which be the girl and which be the snowman,” Spratt said with a chuckle.
    I brushed the snow off. My nose felt like the carrot in the snowman’s face, frozen hard as diamonds.
    While I stamped my feet to warm them, Spratt studied the snowman. “This be a right good job,” he said, “but there’s summat familiar about him.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Could it be ye had some help a-building it?”
    When I didn’t answer immediately, he went on, “I sees onliest one set of footprints. I reckon they be yers.
Her
don’t leave no footprints.”
    â€œSophia,” I whispered. “
She
made his face.”
    â€œHush, don’t be saying her name. That’s like inviting her to come.” Spratt leaned on the shovel he’d been using to clear snow from the garden walk, and peered into my eyes. “Ye see her, do ye?”
    I nodded. “First I felt her, then I heard her, and now I see her. She comes to my room, she follows me upstairs and down. No matter where I go, I can’t escape her.”
    Spratt sighed and shook his head. “It be a shame for a child to be so wicked as that ’un. Wish I knowed a way to make her lie peaceful in her grave like most folk do.”
    â€œYou gave James a charm to protect him. Can you make one for me?” My voice rose. “She wants him dead—she wants me dead too. She hates me. I tell you, she hates me!”
    â€œNo, no. Her just be toying with ye. It’s always