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jilted her. Me, I figure she got herself murdered and she’s come back looking to punish the man that did it.”
    â€œBut wouldn’t he be dead by now, too?”
    â€œWell, more’n likely,” Betty said, “but if she’s been gone for a hundred years, maybe she got confused.”
    Gennie gave up on any attempt to wring logic out of Betty.
    â€œHave you seen her face—that ghost’s, I mean?” Gennie asked.
    â€œNope,” Betty said, with regret. “She’s always got that hood pulled forward or something. Maybe ghosts ain’t got faces.”
    Gennie didn’t venture an opinion on the subject. As her excitement dwindled, her discomfort grew. She’d begun to notice that her shoes were soaked through. She wanted to go to her room, dry off, and snuggle under her covers. She forced herself to ask another question. “How many times have you seen her?”
    â€œOh, me and Arlin—that’s my husband—we been out here five nights in a row, ever since we seen that story in the Lexington paper, while we was visiting my sister. The first night we just wandered around, didn’t see nothin’, but we figured we’d come back and try again. That’s when we met those folks.” She pointed toward the others, who chattered as if they were at a church social.
    â€œWhen we finally seen her, it was in that building over there.” Betty’s arm swung toward the abandoned South Family Dwelling House. “Next night she was over there, and then last night over there.” She’d indicated the Schoolhouse and the Sisters’ Shop. So the specter had jumped around a bit but stayed in the same area, avoiding the buildings occupied at night. Would it stick to the abandoned or empty buildings or become bolder and begin to haunt the Shakers’ living quarters? If the ghost ventured into the Children’s Dwelling House, it would surely have an audience of one very determined little girl. Gennie smiled into the darkness at the thought of Mairin following the phantom from room to room. If someone was perpetrating a hoax, Mairin would soon figure it out.
    Betty stared at the South Family Dwelling House, her face scrunched up as if it hurt to concentrate. “Now I think of it,” she said, “I did notice something the other night. Arlin seen it, too. That ghost looked like she was fat. We didn’t notice it at first, not while she was dancing—maybe ’cause her dress was puffed out by all that spinning around. But when we was back in our wagon heading home, we caught sight of her running between a couple of buildings, and it sure seemed like her cloak was still pushed out, you know, like it would be over a fat person. Arlin, he didn’t think a ghost could have fat, not solid fat anyways. She was supposed to be a pretty young thing, too. So I reckon she was, you know, in the family way. Maybe that’s why she killed herself—or got killed. Makes sense, don’t it?”
    â€œWhat buildings was she running toward, do you remember?”
    â€œOh honey, these buildings are so plain they all look alike to me.” A tall man who must be Arlin called to Betty. “Time for bed,” Betty said. “You take care now, hear? Get yourself dried off. Ain’t worth a chill.”
    Gennie no longer cared about her cold, wet feet. A pregnant ghost—this was something she should take to Rose. And Agatha, too. If anyone would remember a story about a Shaker girl who got into trouble and died as a result, it was Sister Agatha. Gennie’s morose mood had melted away. She could put aside this endless fussing about Grady and Marriage. Adventure was in the air.

Five
    L IKE ALL OTHER DAYS , S ATURDAY WAS A BUSY ONE FOR the Shakers of North Homage. Normally they would give themselves an extra half hour of sleep on Saturday morning, but planting season had begun. The ground was warm enough to till, the air was