SOME years ago, some cousins of mine, who lived in an old house at
Reading, frequently saw a little old lady who used to come and sit in
one of the bedrooms at night. They were so used to seeing her that
they lost their fear. Later, the house was pulled down, and a box
containing a skeleton was discovered. They made inquiries and found
that, years before they lived there, a murder had been committed. An
old uncle of mine, who was a missionary, and who sometimes paid my
cousins a visit, always saw the old lady when he slept there.