"Listen!"
"Yes, listen!"
"It's trailing up the stairs."
"Oh, I'm frightened, I'm frightened!" said Gerdy.
The sisters all crept together.
"I'm not frightened," said Marietje. "I often hear it, like that."
"What is it?"
"The maids say . . ."
"What?"
"That it's . . ."
"Who?"
"The old man. . . ."
"Hush!"
"Listen, listen!"
"They say the house is haunted."
"It may be nothing at all," said Marietje. "It may be the wind, making a draught."
"But everything's shut."
"Old houses have queer draughts sometimes, for all that."
"The furniture's old too."
"Listen, it's trailing!"
"That's the wind."
"There's the same trailing sound in the wind sometimes, blowing round the house. I'm getting used to it," said Marietje.
"Yes," said Adeletje, "one gets used, one gets used to everything. . . . I shall always remain in this house, with Uncle and Aunt. I love them."
"They never talk about it."
"That's by far the best way."
"Mathilde, how frightened she is!"
"Listen, listen! It's going upstairs!"
"It's the wind . . . taking the draught upstairs."
