SOME years ago, I was sitting alone in the sitting-room one Sunday
night, after the rest of the family had retired, and I was reading
the case of little “Teddy Slingsby.” The banging of a door which
opened out of the kitchen to the scullery aroused me to investigate,
and to secure it for the night, as always was done, with a bolt. When
I reached the centre of the kitchen I could see that the door was
wide open and, it being a nice moonlight night, I could see the trees
in the garden and the ivy hanging on the old wall. I stepped up to
the door, putting out my hand to close it and, to my horror, I found
that the door was then closed and bolted securely, and my view of the
moonlit garden was at once cut out.
I turned for the staircase and, upon arriving at the top, I entered
my mother's room, too scared and speechless to tell her what I had
seen. I placed my back against the wall for support, and slid down,
sitting on the floor. When I had recovered, I explained to mother
what I had seen. She advised me to get to bed at once, which I did. I
had not buried myself in bed very long before I heard a rustling, as
that of paper, and, looking up, I saw a figure all in white standing
with hand to its head, and elbow against my bedroom door. I could not
utter a word, and I watched the figure completely disappear.
This I told the remainder of the family next morning, and my mother
could then say that she had seen the same thing herself. Also I heard
from the people who had lived in the house previously, that members
of that family had seen the same apparition.