Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE OTHER WING : | ey) : He looked up into his father’s face without a word. He felt dazed. The next minute his father had caught him up and kissed him. “Ragamufhna! How did you guess I was coming back to-night?” He hook him playfully and kissed his tumbling hair. “And you’ve been asleep, too, into the bargain. Well—how’s ae at home—eh? a s coming back from school to-morrow, you know, and...” 4 Jack came home, indeed, the following day, and when the Easter holidays were over, the governess stayed abroad “ane Tim went off to adventures of another lind in the preparatory school for Wellington. Life slipped rapidly along with him; he grew into a man; his mother and his father died; Jack followed them within a little space; es inherited, married, settled dee into his great possessions—and opened up the Other Wing. The dreams of imaginative boyhood all had faded; perhaps he had merely put them away, © _ or perhaps he had forgotten them. At any rate, he never spoke of such things now, and when his Irish wife mentioned her belief that the old country house possessed a family ghost, even declaring that she had met an Eighteenth Century figure of a man in the corridors, “an old, old man who bends down upon a stick’’-—Tim only laughed and said: “That’s as it ought to be! And if these awful land-taxes force us to sell some day, a respectable ghost will increase the market value.” But one night he woke and heard a tapping on the floor. He sat up in bed "and listened. There was 4 chilly feeling down his back. Belief had long since gone out of him; he felt uncannily afraid. The sound came nearer and nearer; _ there were light footsteps with it. The door opened—it opened a little wider, that is, for it already stood ajar—and there upon the threshold stood a Hens that it seemed he knew. He saw the face as with all the vivid sharpness of reality. There was a smile upon it, but a smile of warning and alarm. The arm was raised. Tim saw the slender hand, lace falling down upon the long, thin fingers, and in them, tightly gripped, a polished cane. Shaking the cane twice to and fro in the air, the face thrust forward, spoke certain words, and Pinned. Bile the qwords, werd inaudible; for, deuek the Es distinctly moved, no sound, apparently, came from them: And Tim sprang out of bed. The room was full of darkness. He turned ae light on. The door, he saw, was shut as usual. He had, of course, been dreaming. But he noticed a curious odour in the air. He sniffed it once or twice—then grasped the truth. It was a smell of burning! Fortunately, he awoke just in time: .. . He was acclaimed a hero for his promptitude. After many days, when the _ damage was repaired, and nerves had settled down once more into the calm ee ee ee comicbook Baty po EB ed ont ks. () om