"What's up?" Joel asked.
"Be quiet, Joel, please. There's something."
They listened most intently.
"I can't hear anything," Andrew whispered.
"Well I do," Hannah said, in a low voice. "Hear it or feel it. There's something."
And again in silence they listened.
It began to seem to Mary, as to Hannah, that there was someone in the house other than themselves. She thought of the children; they might have waked up. Yet listening as intently as she could, she was not at all sure that there was any sound; and whoever or whatever it might be, she became sure that it was no child, for she felt in it a terrible forcefulness, and concern, and restiveness, which were no part of any child.
"There is something," Andrew whispered Whatever it might be, it was never for an instant at rest in one place. It was in the next room; it was in the kitchen; it was in the dining room.
"I'm going out to see," Andrew said; he got up.
"Wait, Andrew, don't, not yet," Mary whispered "No; no"; now it's going upstairs, she thought; it's along the-it's in the children's room. It's in our room.
"Has somebody come into the house?" Catherine inquired in her clear voice.
Andrew felt the flesh go cold along his spine. He bent near her. "What made you think so, Mama?" he asked quietly.
"It's right here in the room with us," Mary said in a cold voice.
"Why, how very stupid of me, I thought I heard. Footsteps." She gave her short, tinkling laugh. "I must be getting old and dippy." She laughed again.
"Sshh!"
"It's Jay," Mary whispered. "I know it now. I was so wrapped up in wondering what on earth… Jay. Darling. Dear heart, can you hear me?
"Can you tell me if you hear me, dearest?
"Can you?
"Can't you?
"Oh try your best, my dear. Try your very hardest to let me know.
"You can't, can you? You can't, no matter how hard.
"But O, do hear me, Jay. I do pray God with all my heart you can hear me, I want so to assure you.
"Don't be troubled, dear one. Don't you worry. Stay near us if you can. All you can. But let not your heart be troubled. They're all right, my sweetheart, my husband. I'm going to be all right. Don't you worry. We'll make out. Rest, my dear. Just rest. Just rest, my heart. Don't ever be troubled again. Never again, darling. Never, never again."
"May the souls of the faithful through the mercy of God rest in peace," Hannah whispered. "Blessed are the dead."
"Mary!" her brother whispered. He was crying.
"He's not here any more now," she said. "We can talk."
"Mary, in God's name what was it?"
"It was Jay, Andrew."
"It was something. I haven't any doubt of that, but-good God, Mary."
"It was Jay, all right. I know! Who else would be coming here tonight, so terribly worried, so terribly concerned for us, and restless! Besides, Andrew, it-it simply felt like Jay."
"You mean…"
"I just mean it felt like his presence."
"To me, too," Hannah said.
"I don't like to interrupt," Joel said, "but would you mind telling me, please, what's going on here?"
"You felt it too, Papa?" Mary asked eagerly.
"Felt what?"
"You remember when Aunt Hannah said there was something around, someone or something in the house?"
"Yes, and she told me to shut up, so I did."
"I simply asked you please to be quiet, Joel, because we were trying to hear."
"Well, what did you hear?"
"I don't know's I heard anything, Joel. I'm not a bit sure. I don't think I did. But I felt something, very distinctly. So did Andrew."
"Yes I did, Papa."
"And Mary."
"Oh, very much so."
"What do you mean you felt something?"
"Then you didn't, Papa?"
"I got a feeling there was some kind of a strain in the room, something or other was up among you; Mary looking as if she'd seen a ghost; all of you…"
"She did," Andrew said. "That is, she didn't actually see anything, but she felt it. She knew something was there. She says it was Jay."
"Hahh?"
"Jay. Aunt Hannah thinks so too."
"Hannah?"
"Yes I do, Joel. I'm not as sure as Mary, but it did seem like him."
"What's 'it'?"
"The thing, Papa, whatever it was. The thing we all felt."
"What did it feel like?"
"Just a…"
"You think it was Jay?"
"No, I had no idea what it was. But I know it was something. Mama felt it too."
"Catherine?"
"Yes. And it couldn't have been through us because she didn't even know what we were doing. All of a sudden she said, 'Has somebody come into the house?' and when I asked her why she thought so she said she thought she'd heard footsteps."
"Could be thought transference."
"None of the rest of us thought we heard footsteps."
"All the same. It can't be what you think."
"I don't know what it was, Papa, but there are four of us here independently who are sure there was something."
"Joel, I know that God in a wheelbarrow wouldn't convince you," his sister said. "We aren't even trying to convince you. But while you're being so rational, why at least please be rational enough to realize that we experienced what we experienced."
"The least I can do is accept the fact that three people had a hallucination, and honor their belief in it. That I can do, too, I guess. I believe you, for yourself, Hannah. All of you. I'd have to have the same hallucination myself to be convinced. And even then I'd have my doubts."
"What on earth do you mean, doubts, Papa, if you had it yourself?"
"I'd suspect it was just a hallucination."
"Oh, good Lord! You've got it going and coming, haven't you!"
"Is this a dagger that I see before me? Wasn't, you know. But you could never convince Macbeth it wasn't."
"Andrew," Mary broke in, "tell Mama. She's just dying to know what we're…" she trailed off. I must be out of my mind, she said to herself. Dying! And she began to think with astonishment and disgust of the way they had all been talking-herself most of all. How can we bear to chatter along in normal tones of voice! she thought; how can we even use ordinary words, or say words at all! And now, picking his poor troubled soul to pieces, like so many hens squabbling over-she thought of a worm, and covered her face in sickness. She heard her mother say, "Why, Andrew, how perfectly extraordinary!" and then she heard Andrew question her, had she had any special feeling about what kind of a person or thing it was, that is, was it quiet or active, or young or old, or disturbed or calm, or was it anything: and her mother answered that she had had no particular impression except that there was someone in the house besides themselves, not the children either, somebody mature, some sort of intruder; but that when nobody had troubled to investigate, she had decided that it must be an hallucination-all the more so because, as she'd said, she thought she'd actually heard someone, whereas with her poor old ears (she laughed gracefully) that was simply out of the question, of course. Oh, I do wish they'd leave him in peace, she said to herself. A thing so wonderful. Such a proof! Why can't we just keep a reverent silence! But Andrew was asking his mother, had she, a little later than that, still felt even so that there was somebody? or not. And she said that indeed she had had such an impression. Where? Why she couldn't say where, except that the impression was even stronger than before, but, of course, by then she realized it was an hallucination. But they felt it too! Why how perfectly uncanny!
"Mary thinks it was Jay," Andrew told her.
"Why, I…"
"So does Aunt Hannah."
"Why how-how perfectly extraordinary, Andrew!"
"She thinks he was worried about…"
"Oh, Andrew!" Mary cried. "Andrew Please let's don't talk about it any more! Do you mind?"
He looked at her as if he had been slapped. "Why, Mary, of course not!" He explained to his mother: "Mary'd rather we didn't discuss it any more."