after an afternoon spent in showing the new housekeeper the proper place of things. They had gone over the bed and table linen together, Mrs. Townsend taking notes of such pieces as needed replenishing. They had inspected the china-cabinet and counted the silver. A liberal quantity of cigars and liquors had been ordered the day before and was now stowed away under the sideboard. The piano-tuner had been there and gone, and the electrician, and the plumber to repair the shower-bath. They had also gone over the contents of the music cabinet, Mrs. Townsend placing in a separate pile the favorite selections of her late husband.
As Kate sat in the gathering twilight of the October day she turned over all the strange happenings of the several days previous. "But if Mr. Townsend's spirit demands a housekeeper, why does she have to be a red-headed woman and have a good figure?" she asked, again looking up at the bird. "Why wouldn't any neat, tidy housekeeper do just as well?"
This reverie was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter. "Well, Miss, how's it going by this time?" he asked while he arranged the dishes. The table was set for two. He ladled out the soup and carved the roast into two portions. Ignoring Mrs. Townsend's injunctions, she allowed him to grow loquacious. He was a young Irishman.
"Queer lady, that Mrs. Townsend," he went on, filling the numerous wine glasses grouped around the plate dedicated to Mr. Townsend's spirit. Mighty pretty woman too, and a fine lady to wait on."
"You've known her for some time, then?" ventured the housekeeper, now sipping daintily at the hot consomme.
"Yes'm, I've been downstairs three years now, and I am the only waiter that ever serves meals up here."
"Indeed? I am not the first housekeeper, then?"
"No, Ma'm; you're about the twenty-first. They don't stay long. There was five tried it last month. Guess Mrs. Townsend is pretty much tickled at finding you."
"What was the matter with the others?" queried the girl.
Mullany cast a swift, searching glance towards Kate's sober, serious face, as if to determine how much it was safe to tell her. "Oh, nothing particular the matter with the girls, only they all got scared. None of them stayed more'n one night."
"Why was that?"
The waiter hesitated. "I don't know whether I ought to tell you or not. You don't think it'll make you afraid? You did not hear anything last night, did you?"
"No, of course not," she laughed, "and I'm not easily scared. You know all about the affair, I see."
"Yes, Miss, Mrs. Townsend had to tell a few people, and I'm one
