The Ghost of Crutchfield Hall by Mary Downing Hahn Read Free Book Online

here, there, and everywhere. Suddenly frightened, I said, “Go away. Leave me alone.”
    â€œDon’t you want me to be your friend?” She came closer, so close I could feel her cold breath on my cheek. “Aren’t you lonely, Florence?”
    â€œHow can you be my friend? I can’t see you, I don’t know where you are.”
    â€œYou’re afraid of me,” Sophia said scornfully.
    â€œYes,” I cried, “yes, I am. I’m afraid of you! You, you—”
    â€œWhy don’t you say it?” Sophia mocked me. “I’m dead. That’s why you’re afraid.”
    The cold air came closer, circled me once or twice, and then backed away. “How can I harm you? I have no substance. No strength.”
    With a whisper of silk, the dress I’d dropped slid across the floor toward me as if blown by the wind. I jumped back when it touched my shoes.
    â€œTake it,” Sophia whispered. “You need a new dress. That drab rag is dreadful. It’s the sort of thing a pauper orphan would wear to scrub the floor.”
    I looked at the silk dress, fearful of it yet wanting it.
    â€œIf Aunt loved you as she loved me, she’d lavish expensive gowns on you as she did me.” Sophia sighed. “Judging by what I’ve seen, I’m certain she doesn’t even like you. Indeed, I believe she despises you.”
    Head down, I gazed at the dress. I couldn’t argue with the truth.
    â€œShe hates you because you’re not me,” Sophia added.
    I remained silent.
    â€œAunt gave me everything in that trunk,” Sophia said. “After I died, I watched her pack my dresses and dolls as if she thought I’d come back for them someday.” She laughed. “Poor old Aunt. She wept as if her heart were broken.”
    As Sophia spoke, Clara Annette floated across the attic and dropped softly into my arms. Without intending to, I hugged the doll. She was too beautiful to leave in the attic.
    â€œI can’t take your things,” I whispered, holding the doll even tighter.
    â€œOf course you can,” Sophia said. “I want you to have them as a token of our friendship. Besides, I have no need for dresses or dolls now.”
    â€œAunt will not want me to have them.”
    â€œTut,” Sophia said with a laugh. “Aunt needn’t know.”
    I stared into the shadows and tried to see her. But no matter how hard I looked, I saw nothing. “Please, Sophia,” I begged. “Please let me see you.”
    â€œSomeday.” With that promise, a cold breeze whirled away, taking Sophia with it.
    Scooping up the dress and the doll, I ran down the attic steps, mindless now of how much noise I made. Behind me, the door to the attic slammed shut.
    In my room, safe behind my own door, I dropped the dress on my bed. With Clara Annette in my arms, I warmed myself in front of the fire. Why had I accepted Sophia’s gifts? I didn’t want the belongings of a dead girl. Yet I’d been unable to refuse them. Because they were beautiful, I supposed. Because I’d never owned anything like them. Because I was afraid of angering Sophia.
    A soft rap on my door startled me. Clutching the doll even tighter, I cried, “Who’s there?”
    â€œIt’s Nellie, miss, come to tidy your room.” The door opened a crack and Nellie peered in. Never was I so happy to see her ordinary freckled face.
    Nellie stared at the dress on the bed and the doll in my arms. “Oh, miss,” she whispered, entering the room, “they be ever so pretty. Did your uncle give you them?” As she spoke, she touched the silk gently.
    I shook my head. It was then that Nellie noticed my state. “Why, miss, what be wrong?”
    â€œNo one gave them to me. I found them in the attic.”
    â€œYe went to the attic?” The sympathy on Nellie’s face changed to shock. “Nobody goes there. The floor be rotten. Even a