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had done establishing some important scientific facts.
    Grandmother Emma wouldn't hear of it.
"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Great
aunt Frances suddenly thought to ask.
"No. I don't think so," I said. "We never had a
cat or a dog.'
"Lester Marshall has a hound dog named
Bones, but he doesn't come into the house. I think he's
afraid of Miss Puss, even though a dog would never
admit being afraid of a cat," she told me almost in a
whisper. She was so serious-looking when she said it
that anyone listening might think she really believed
dogs could talk.
She just assumed I knew who Lester Marshall
was, I guess.
I glanced at Felix, who was studying everything
in the house and shaking his head. He looked at Greataunt Frances and then at me and I thought there was
some real hesitation in his face. He was gripping my
suitcases tightly now. I could see it in the way his
hands hardened; the veins in them were embossed and
his knuckles had turned white. He knew that
Grandmother Emma wouldn't set foot in here, I
thought. She would turn around and order an army of
house cleaners to report immediately.
Great-aunt Frances moved the coat hanger
back. She saw the way I was looking at the coat. "This was my father's coat and hat and those
were his boots. I put them there to keep him close,"
she said. smiling. "If you throw away or hide
everything that belonged to the people you loved, you
make their spirits feel unwanted. Oh. I know. Emma
would say that's silly," she added, gazing at Felix. He
forced a smile.
I wasn't sure if I would or not. It sounded
sensible and Grandmother Emma did tell us our
ancestors were always watching and listening. "I'm sure you're getting hungry for lunch and
your little stomach is growling angrily. I'll make some
lunch for you, too, Felix."
"No, Miss Wilkens. I'm not staying for lunch. I
have to start back as soon as I see to Jordan's being
settled. I have things to do back in Bethlehem for Mrs.
March."
"Oh." She shook her head and scrunched her
nose, making ripples in her forehead. "My sister
always worked her help too much." she told me and
turned to Felix. "Let's show Jordan to her room right
away then," she declared, clapping her hands together
as if she had just thought of the idea. "Follow me up
the stairway,"
She kept her palms pressed together and
waddled toward the stairs. A hailstorm of questions
peppered my mind. When had she stopped being the
beautiful, trim-figured woman in the March family
albums? How long had she been living here? Was she
always by herself? Why hadn't she ever married? Why
didn't she have children of her own?
Felix waited for me to follow her first. I gazed
through the doorway of what was surely the living
room and saw it was a very messy room. There were
magazines strewn about the furniture and an the floor.
A blanket was crumpled at the foot of the large darkbrown pillow sofa. Glasses and dishes were on the
long, narrow, wooden coffee table, and a towel had
been tossed to or dropped on the other side of that. I
couldn't see much more because we were walking too
quickly for me to pause, but I did catch a glimpse of
stockings hanging on the fireplace, Christmas
stockings. What were they doing there now? It was
only August.
The stairs creaked and moaned as we ascended,
and the railing shook. I looked back and saw that
Felix was eyeing it with some concern and caution. "Don't lean on it." he warned.
When we reached the second landing. Greataunt Frances paused and gazed about, as if she was
trying to remember where my room was herself. Then
she smiled and started down to our right. Because
there were no windows in the hallway and the
chandeliers in the ceiling were unlit and also missing
bulbs, it was so dark that I felt we were walking
through a tunnel of shadows. I could barely make out
the few pictures hung along the way. They were
depictions of country scenes, men and women riding
horses with dogs trailing along. There was a picture of
a lake with a young woman looking out