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Updated: May 12, 2025
Hearing that a house on Duchess street was to let, he called and went over the premises with Mr. Washburn, who naturally kept silent as to the supernatural appearances which had driven the Summerses from the door in the middle of the night. The inspection proved satisfactory, and Mr. Horsfall took the place for a year.
Sometimes there was a letter for which there was no applicant present and then Miss Harriet would say: "Is anybody going past Mrs Willis Summerses?" And if anybody was, he would take the letter, and it is to be hoped he remembered to deliver it in the course of a week.
A few cynical ones whispered "press agent" and smiled wisely. Posie Carrington laid her dimpled and desirable chin upon her hands, and forgot her audience a faculty that had won her laurels for her. "I don't seem to recollect any Bill Summers," she said, thoughtfully gazing straight into the innocent blue eyes of the rustic young man. "But I know the Summerses, all right.
He rose and went to her table with a lateral, shining smile and a blush of pleased trepidation. "How're ye, Miss Posie?" he said in accents not to be doubted. "Don't ye remember me Bill Summers the Summerses that lived back of the blacksmith shop? I reckon I've growed up some since ye left Cranberry Corners. "'Liza Perry 'lowed I might see ye in the city while I was here.
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