What Ghost?

Agnes shook her head. “So, Mildred bought a house that was haunted? If she truly believed that, why would she do such a dumb thing?

            Clara sipped her tea. “Of course, she didn’t know that, at the time.”

            Agnes chuckled. “So, who or what is supposed to haunt this place? And, by the way, I’ve spent two nights here and I haven’t heard or seen anything in the least bit spooky except that cat of Mildred’s. She’s enough to give Maybelle and me the shivers.”

            As if on cue, a large, long-haired gray cat glided into the dining room and hopped up on Clara’s lap, purring enthusiastically.

            “Candy?” Clara chuckled. “She’s a sweetheart. Just look at her.”

            “I am,” Agnes said. “And, I can’t believe my eyes. She stays as far away from me as she can get and comes out of hiding only to eat. Why, once, when I tried to pet her, she swatted me. Wicked animal.”

            “Obviously, she thinks you are trying to take Mildred’s place,” Clara said, stroking Candy’s back. “You just have to get to know her.”

            Agnes sighed. She had always liked cats and dogs, but Maybelle was actually afraid of Candy and Maybelle was a smart dog.

            “You were going to tell me about the ghost,” Agnes said.

            “Yes. Well, from what Mildred gathered from the folks in town…”

            “Which, by the way, is way, way over yonder somewhere,” Agnes interrupted, waving her hand vaguely eastward.

            “As I was saying, the folks in town said that many years ago, a Yankee soldier during the War of Southern Rebellion, was killed and buried somewhere on the property. There’s quite a romantic story behind it, actually.”

            “I’m all ears,” Agnes said, leaning forward. “And, by the way, that was the War of Northern Aggression.”