The Elevator Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page A

door shut as she left the apartment.
    â€œIs it an exciting game?” Carolina Giddle inquired.
    â€œNo,” said Hetty. “But our TV is out for fixing.”
    â€œWon’t be back ’til Tuesday,” Hubert added glumly.
    â€œI have an idea.” Carolina Giddle pulled her sweater coat closer around her. It was orange and warm looking, the color of a ripe pumpkin. “Why don’t we go for an outing in the park? It’s still early, and such a lovely afternoon, considering it’s November.”
    â€œI dunno.” Hubert looked suspiciously at the living-room window. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”
    â€œLand’s sake!” Carolina Giddle laughed. “There’s least a couple of hours of good sunlight. We can have a picnic.” She patted her large bag. “I’ve got cocoa in a thermos. And Rumpelstiltskin sandwiches.”
    â€œRumpelstiltskin sandwiches?”
    â€œMy daddy used to make these when I was little. We didn’t know what to call them so I named them.” Carolina Giddle smacked her lips. “They’re made with banana bread and marshmallows and chopped-up mini chocolate bars. You know, the kind that people give out as Halloween treats? I always have a bunch left over.”
    â€œMommy left us a snack,” Hetty sighed. “Carrot sticks and parsnip hummus.”
    Hubert gave a little groan. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”
    Carolina Giddle was right. It was still sunny as they entered the park. They walked along the trail that followed the shoreline of a small lake in the middle.
    When she noticed Hubert looking apprehensively at the patches of darkness in the shaded treed areas, Carolina Giddle began
to sing.
    â€œThere’s nothing better than campfire songs when you’re out for a brisk walk. ‘A horse and a flea and three blind mice… ’”
    So they sang. It took seven songs to get them to the best picnic table. It sat in the sunlight, well away from the shade of evergreens.
    By the time they were ready to head home, the sun had begun to go down. It was beginning to get a bit chilly, too. Hetty put on her mitts and hung onto Carolina Giddle’s gloved hand — the one that was not occupied with her going-to-the-park bag. Hubert kept so close to Carolina Giddle’s sweater coat, he might as well have been wearing it himself.
    A long shadow from one of the park’s statues stretched across their path. The statue was of a famous musician holding his violin, but to Hubert the shadow looked like a zombie with an ax sticking out of its head. He cringed and closed his eyes as they walked over it.
    A little farther on, they came upon another shadow. This one, cast by one of the pylons by the park gate, was gigantic. Hubert, with his eyes closed, strayed from the path, stumbled over a water fountain pedestal and fell into the middle of the dark mass.
    At that moment, a jogger ran by. He was accompanied by a dog the size of a bear. Drool dripped from its muzzle. Hubert let out a howl that brought an answering howl from the dog.
    â€œLand sakes alive!” Carolina Giddle said, handing her bag to Hetty. She helped Hubert to his feet. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. He held her hand all the way back to the Blatchford Arms.
    â€œPapa always reads to us before we go to bed,” Hetty said, after dinner and baths. She began hunting through the bookshelf. “There’s Perky the Pigeon and A Pigeon Keeper’s Guide to Carrier Training.”
    â€œWell, now,” Carolina Giddle declared, “I’m a better teller than I am a reader. You just find yourselves the most comfortable spot on that sofa and tuck that afghan blanket around you. I’ll make us all some honey hickory tea.”
    Once the children were tucked up with the afghan, Carolina Giddle went around the apartment, turning off lights.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Hubert