“Poor Mr. Morrison,” she sobbed, as Teddy half led, half carried her to one of the old flat gravestones at the side of the church.
They sat there until Emily recovered composure and managed to tell her tale—or the outlines of it. She felt she could never tell—perhaps not even write in a Jimmy-book—the whole of its racking horror. That was beyond words.
“And to think,” she sobbed, “that the key was there all the time. I never knew it.”
“Old Jacob Banks always locks the front door with its big key on the inside, and then hangs it up on that nail,” said Teddy. “He locks the choir door with a little key, which he takes home. He has always done that since the time, three years ago, when he lost the big key and was weeks before he found it.”
Suddenly Emily awoke to the strangeness of Teddy’s coming.
“How did you happen to come, Teddy?”
“Why, I heard you call me,” he said. “You did call me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Emily, slowly, “I called for you when I saw Mad Mr. Morrison first. But, Teddy, you couldn’t have heard me—you couldn’t. The Tansy Patch is a mile from here.”
“I did hear you,” said Teddy, stubbornly. “I was asleep and it woke me up. You called ‘Teddy, Teddy, save me’—it was your voice as plain as I ever heard it in my life. I got right up and hurried on my clothes and came here as fast as I could.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Why—I don’t know,” said Teddy confusedly. “I didn’t stop to think—I just seemed to know you were in the church when I heard you calling me, and I must get here as quick as I could. It’s—it’s all—funny,” he concluded lamely.
“It’s—it’s—it frightens me a little.” Emily shivered. “Aunt Elizabeth says I have second sight—you remember
