Raspberry Jam Part 35

"Yes; and Sanford--Mr. Embury, you know, came gliding through my room, and he stopped at my bedside to say good-by--"

"Was he alive?" asked Fibsy, awe-struck at her hushed tones and bright, glittering eyes.

"Oh, no, it was his spirit, you see--his disembodied spirit"

"How could you see it, then?"

"When spirits appear like that, they are visible."

"Oh, ma'am--I didn't know."

"Yes, and I not only saw him but he was evident to all my five senses!"

"What, ma'am? What do you mean?"

Fibsy drew back, a little scared, as Aunt Abby clutched his sleeve in her excitement. He felt uneasy, for it was growing dusk, and the old lady was in such a state of nervous exhilaration that he shrank a little from her proximity.

But Fibsy was game. "Go on, ma'am," he whispered.

"Yes," Aunt Abby declared, with an eerie smile of triumph, "I saw him--I heard him--I felt him--I smelled him--and, I tasted him!"

Fibsy nearly shrieked, for at each enumeration of her marvelous experiences, Miss Ames grasped his arm tighter and emphasized her statements by pounding on his shoulder.

She seemed unaware of his personal presence--she talked more as if recounting the matter to herself, but she used him as a general audience and the boy had to make a desperate effort to preserve his poise.

And then it struck him that the old lady was crazy, or else she really had an important story to tell. In either case, it was his duty to let Fleming Stone hear it, at first hand, if possible. But he felt sure that to call in the rest of the household, or to take the narrator out to them would--as he expressed it to himself "upset her applecart and spill the beans!"

CHAPTER XIV

THE FIVE SENSES

However he decided quickly, it must be done, so he said, diplomatically, "This is awful int'restin', Miss Ames, and I'm just dead sure and certain Mr. Stone'd think so, too. Let's go out and get it off where he c'n hear it. What say?"

The boy had risen and was edging toward the door. Rather than lose her audience, Aunt Abby followed, and in a moment the pair appeared in the living-room, where Fleming Stone was still talking to Eunice and Mr.

Elliott.

"Miss Ames, now, she's got somethin' worth tellin'," Fibsy announced.

"This yarn of hers is pure gold and a yard wide, Mr. Stone, and you oughter hear it, sir."

"Gladly," and Stone gave Aunt Abby a welcoming smile.

Nothing loath to achieve the center of the stage, the old lady seated herself in her favorite arm-chair, and began:

"It was almost morning," she said, "a faint dawn began to make objects about the room visible, when I opened my eyes and saw a dim, gliding figure--"

Eunice gave an angry exclamation, and rising quickly from her chair, walked into her own room, and closed the door with a slam that left no doubt as to her state of mind.

"Let her alone," advised Elliott; "she's better off in there. What is this story, Aunt Abby? I've never heard it in full."

"No; Eunice never would let me tell it. But it will solve all mystery of Sanford's death."

"Then it is indeed important," and Stone looked at the speaker intently.

"Yes, Mr. Stone, it will prove beyond all doubt that Mr. Embury was a suicide."

"Go on, then," said Elliott, briefly.

"I will. In the half light, I saw this figure I just mentioned. It wasn't discernible clearly--it was merely a moving shadow--a vague shape. It came toward me--"

"From which direction?" asked Stone, with decided interest.

"From Eunice's room--that is, it had, of course, come from Mr. Embury's room, through Eunice's room, and so on into my room. For it was Sanford Embury's spirit--get that firmly in your minds!"

The old lady spoke with asperity, for she was afraid of contradiction, and resented their quite apparent scepticism.

"Go on, please," urged Stone.

"Well, the spirit came nearer my bed, and paused and looked down on me where I lay."

"Did you see his face?" asked Elliott.

"Dimly. I can't seem to make you understand how vague the whole thing was--and yet it was there! As he leaned over me, I saw him--saw the indistinct shape--and I heard the sound of a watch ticking. It was not my watch, it was a very faint ticking one, but all else was so still, that I positively heard it."

"Gee!" said Fibsy, in an explosive whisper.

"Then he seemed about to move away. Impulsively, I made a movement to detain him. Almost without volition--acting on instinct--I put out my hand and clutched his arm. I felt his sleeve--it wasn't a coat sleeve--nor a pajama sleeve--it seemed to have on his gymnasium suit--the sleeve was like woolen jersey--"

"And you felt this?"

"Yes, Mr. Stone, I felt it distinctly--and not only with my hand as I grasped at his arm but" Aunt Abby hesitated an instant, then went on, "But I bit at him! Yes, I did! I don't know why, only I was possessed with an impulse to hold him--and he was slipping away. I didn't realize at the time--who--what it was, and I sort of thought it was a burglar. But, anyway, I bit at him, and so I bit at the woolen sleeve--it was unmistakable--and on it I tasted raspberry jam."

"What!" cried her hearers almost in concert.

"Yes--you needn't laugh--I guess I know the taste of raspberry jam, and it was on that sleeve, as sure as I'm sitting here!"

"Gee!" repeated Fibsy, his fists clenched on his knees and his bright eyes fairly boring into the old lady's countenance. "Gee whiz!"

"Go on," said Stone, quietly.

"And--I smelt gasoline," concluded Miss Ames defiantly. "Now, sir, there's the story. Make what you will out of it, it's every word true.

I've thought it over and over, since I realized what it all meant, and had I known at the time it was Sanford's spirit, I should have spoken to him. But as it was, I was too stunned to speak, and when I tried to hold him, he slipped away, and disappeared. But it was positively a materialization of Sanford Embury's flitting spirit--and nothing else."

"The vision may argue a pa.s.sing soul," Stone said kindly, as if humoring her, "but the effect on your other senses, seems to me to indicate a living person."