We Hear the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

to stand down in his role, if you so desire. Wouldn’t you, Bill?”
    Mr. Duesler had no choice but to agree to allow someone else to ask the questions, although he looked unhappy about it.
    Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. David stayed for a while to speak to my parents. Father especially seemed unhappy with the idea of digging up the cellar and adamantly refused to allow any activity to take place the next day, on the Sabbath.
    For my part, I refused to be removed from my bed. Kate snuggled down beside me, and we did not allow any room for Lizzie Fish, who had to go home with Mrs. Redfield.
    The spirit was very quiet for the remainder of the night.

Chapter Four
    Maggie
    One of the most amazing things about those strange days was that Kate and I were caught in the act more than once. Still, most people never believed we could be responsible for what they were hearing.
    The first person to accuse us was that loud-voiced man, Demosthenes Smith, who embarrassed Mr. Duesler on the night of April Fools’. He did not return on Monday, as suggested, but came later that week. By then we had grown accustomed to receiving a limited number of people in the bedroom at dark. My mother would shut the door to close out distractions, lighting only a small candle in the corner of the room “because the spirit preferred it that way.”
    Kate and I had become rather bold and, I daresay, overconfident about our own cleverness. Therefore, it was with a sense of shock and disbelief that I felt a great hand grasp my foot during the rapping. My leg was abruptly pulled out from beneath the covers and over my head.
    â€œI have the ghost!” shouted Mr. Smith. “I have the ghost!”
    Mother quickly reached for the candle and brought it around to light the area near my bed. There I was, exposed, certainly with a look of shock and fear on my face, while Mr. Smith held my foot triumphantly in his hand, his unpleasant face twisted with smugness.
    There was a long, long moment of silence in which I imagined being soundly thrashed with a rod by my father and shunned forevermore by all the good people in the town.
    Then my father’s low voice growled, in a tone of anger I had never heard before, “Mr. Smith, I will ask you to release my daughter at once.”
    It was only then that I realized how my dress had fallen away, baring my legs. The women in the room had all turned furious faces upon Mr. Smith, who suddenly seemed to realize the liberty he had just taken with a young girl. He dropped my foot and took a step backward. I scooted away from him to the head of the bed and pulled my dress down over my ankles.
    Talk of the town for the next two days was how Demosthenes Smith had presumed to lay hands on one of the Fox girls and how John Fox had run him out of the house. No one wanted to know why Mr. Smith thought my foot was the ghost.
    In fact, the ghost originated from four feet and a couple of knees. Kate had always been able to loudly crack her toes. With practice, I had learned to do so also, although not as reliably as Kate. For really loud raps, Kate popped her knee joints. When possible, I concealed two thin blocks of wood under my dress. Loosely holding them between my knees, I could bring them together for a sharp rap if nobody was closely observing me. This was the reason Kate and I so often drew the bed coverings over us during the rapping.
    The next person to guess our secret was the town doctor. It happened under particularly frightening circumstances, and I came close to confessing everything in that moment.
    Visitors continued to arrive at the house nightly. My mother never turned them away, even people unknown to us. Night after night, the murdered peddler answered questions about his own death and the heavenly disposition of every departed soul known to the questioners. In addition, David had brought a pump to try to reduce the water level in the holes he had dug in the cellar. The pump made a