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their own car
except for the times they stayed over for some social or
athletic event. I was home every minute that I could be.
    There were even a few applicants for the positions we
had listed with the local employment agency. We had always
been particular about the type of help in our home and had never had any trouble in this respect. It soon became
apparent, however, that we would have to take what help
we could get. The first two hired were not from the area
but could best be termed "drifters" if we were correctly
interpreting their answers. However, they seemed respectable
enough. They answered to the names of Mary and Clyde
Simmons.

    Clyde was tall, silent, nervous and thin. Mary was short,
placid, voluble and fat. She was also the spokesman for the
team. Her sentences invariably began with "Me and Clydewe think-" or "Me and Clyde-we like-." This continued
to the point where we privately referred to the man as
"Simmons" and to his wife as "Me and Clyde." They both
used so much snuff that the odor was noticeable -not only
around their persons-but also when the door leading to
the servants' quarters was opened.
    They were both fair workers and we had no fault to find
with them. Unfortunately, they complained about us. I
came downstairs for the breakfast that Mary had prepared
while Dorothy got a few more moments of needed rest.
Simmons was already at the table and looked glum. He
refused to respond to my cheerful greeting.
    Me and Clyde spoke first. "Mr. Cameron, we're leavin'
today."
    I was shocked. "Leaving?" I echoed. "But why? You
haven't been here long enough to decide if you really like us."
    "I don't like being spied on -not in my own bed, I don't."
    "Ohl" I replied lamely. So that was what it wasl What
could I say?
    "Mary," I finally went on defensively. "No one here is
spying on you. Neither Mrs. Cameron nor I would do such
a thingl Your quarters are your own. We wouldn't think of
bothering you there-not unless we had something important to say and knocked first-and were invited inl"
    I said the wrong thing.

    "You don't knock - and then disappear?" Her eyes narrowed speculatively.
    "Of course not!" I answered stoutly.
    She gave me a thoughtful look. "If neither you or the
Missus is spying on us - if you don't knock and then go away
before I can get to the door-then I don't even want to
know what it isl"
    I said nothing.
    "Anyways, Mr. Cameron, Me and Clyde are leaving. We
like the family fine but we don't exactly like this house.
'Sides, we have relatives in Tennessee. We're goin' to
visit 'em."
    Leave they did-almost immediately-in the old car that
had brought them to our door in the first place.
    "Now what?" I asked Dorothy rather helplessly.
    She sighed. "At least I got the house cleaned properly
and a pile of ironing done," she said. "We'll just have to
try again."
    During our first month in the house, I would rush home
from work to check on Dorothy and the kids. When I found
them safe and unharmed, I began to relax. Perhaps Bob
was right. Nothing seemed about to physically injure us,
in or around the house. I think my greatest contribution
to the situation at this time was my insistence on keeping
an objective, scientific attitude toward the phenomena we
were experiencing. Dorothy cooperated with me in this,
keeping us all calm in the wake of the midnight walks and
unseen footsteps. She believed that someone, somewhere,
was protecting the family. At times, though, we slipped up
in our resolve to be always cool and collected. Carrol's
ordeal was one of those times.
    It was shortly after Me and Clyde and her spouse, Simmons, had left us that Dorothy and I found it necessary to
be away from the house one evening. We didn't worry about
Carrol because his brothers were due back from an outing late that afternoon and nothing would bother our youngest
son in the day time. When we drove home that evening,
however, we saw that the older boys' car was not parked