Whose Ghost There?

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Perhaps there is something about having the Talent that attracts situations where it is needed. Today we would call that coincidence. In an earlier age: fate or the Hand of God. Whatever the reason, it makes life for most Crafters quite exciting, and can have other benefits as well.

Anthea was ten years old when she met the ghost.

He was really a very nice ghost, everything considered—but Anthea wasn’t in the mood to consider very much. She had just fled into the library to have a good cry, for Nanny had told her, rather sharply, that Mama had no time to listen to Anthea’s whining just then. Poor Anthea positively dissolved, but Nanny scolded her sharply. “Away with you, aggravating child! When I’ve such a headache! You mustn’t make such a noise!” So Anthea had run out and down the long, creaking stairs to the first room that had a door to it, which was of course the library, crying as though her heart would burst. She threw herself in among the cushions on the window seat, though they reeked of damp, and wept and wept and wept. With all her heart, she wished that her real Nanny hadn’t died, and left her to the mercy of this ... this stranger, this rude country girl who knew nothing of the proper behavior of a nanny, and cared nothing for Anthea’s feelings. She wept on and on as the gloaming faded into a gloomy dusk, not caring that there wasn’t a single candle lighted.

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