Again my little brother hesitated.
"I'll go with you if you'll hold hands," he said, "but I'll shut my eyes. And I won't open them till you tell me there's no shadow on the wall. You must tell me truly."
"But there must be some shadows," I said, "in this bright moonlight, trees and branches, or even clouds scudding across--something of that kind is what you must have seen, dear."
He shook his head.
"No, no, of course I wouldn't mind that. I know the difference. No--you couldn't mistake. It goes along, right along, in a creeping way, and then at the door its hands come farther out, and it feels."
"Is it like a man or a woman?" I said, beginning to feel rather creepy myself.
"I think it's most like a rather little man," he replied, "but I'm not sure. Its head has got something fuzzy about it--oh, I know, like a sticking out wig. But lower down it seems wrapped up, like in a cloak. Oh, it's horrid."