Avon Fantasy Reader No. 13 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

still cluching my hand. “There’s no train to Atlanta till ten in the morning.” I hesitated, then laughed, ‘ ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?” “Why ... why, of course, Mary said oddly, as if the idea was strange and had not occurred to her. “Come in!” I stepped into the great hall, wondering at her queer manner. She had been one of my best friends at college, so why this odd constraint? Not quite as if she did not want me around—more as if it were queer that I should wish to enter her house, as if I were a total stranger, a creature from another planet! I tried to attribute it to the unexpectedness of my visit; yet inwardly I felt this explanation was not sufficient. “What a beautiful old place!” I exclaimed, with an effort to put her at ease again. Then, as the complete silence of the place struck me, unthiok- ingly I added, ‘ ‘You don’t live here alone, do you?” She gave me the oddest look, one I could not fathom, and oye so softly that I could hardly catch the words, “Oh, no.” I laughed. “Of course! I’m crazy . . but where is everybody?” I took off my hat, looking about me at the Colonial furniture and the large candelabra on the walls with the clusters of lighted candles which gave the only light in the place—for there were no modern lighting fixtures of any kind, I noted. The dim candle-light threw deep shadows about the hall —shadows that flickered and moved, that seemed alive. It should have given me a sense of nervous fear; yet somehow there was peace, contentment, warmth about the old mansion. Yet, too, there was an incongruous air of mystery, of unseen things in the shadowy corners, of being watched by un- seen eyes. “Where is everybody? Gone to bed?” I repeated, as she seemed not to have heard my question. “Here they are,” Mary answered in that strange hushed voice I had no- ticed, as if some one were asleep whom she might waken. I looked in the direction she indicated, and started slightly. I had not seen that little group when I éntered! They were standing scarcely ten feet from me just beyond the aura of light from the candle, and they stared at me silently, huddled together and motionless. I smiled and glanced at Mary, who said in a soft voice like the murmur of a light wind, “My mother .. .” I stopped. forward and held out m y hand to'the tall kind-faced woman who advanced a few steps from the half-seen group ‘in the shadows. She seemed, without offense, not to see my hand, but merely gave me a beautiful ae and said, in that same hushed voice Mary used, “If you are my daughter’s friend, you are welcome!” : I happened to glance at Mary from the corner of my eye as she spoke, and I saw my friend’s unnatural constraint vanish, give place to a look, I thought wonderingly, that was unmistakably one of relief, - “My father,” Mary’s voice had a peculiar tone of happiness. A tall dis- apes: looking man of about fifty stepped toward me, smiling gently. He too seemed not to see my outthrust hand, but said in a quiet friendly voice, “I am glad to know you, my dear. Ney has spoken of you often,” 0 ; Comicbookssc® ee