and woke refreshed in the morning. As soon as she opened her eyes, the anxious voice asked, "How do you feel this morning, Luce? Did you rest well through the night?'
Despite this concern, Mrs. Bell gradually grew worse. The family feared she was dying, and the Spirit became absolutely frantic with worry. It was particularly concerned about Lucy's appetite, or lack thereof. One day, in the same plaintive voice, it asked, "Luce, poor Luce, how do you feel now? Hold out your hands, Luce, and I will give you something."
Obediently Lucy cupped her hands. Into them fell a rain of hazelnuts, apparently originating from the empty air above the bed.
The ladies who were visiting the sick woman exclaimed in astonishment. One of them climbed on a chair to examine the ceiling, but found not even a crack through which the nuts could have been dropped.
"Say, Luce, why don't you eat the nuts?" the Spirit demanded.
"I cannot crack them."
"Well, I will crack some for you."
Cracking sounds were distinctly heard before the fragments of nuts dropped into the bed.
"Eat the nuts, they will do you good," the voice insisted.
"You are so kind," Lucy said tactfully. "But I am too sick to eat them."
So the next offering was a bunch of grapes, which appeared on her bedside table before the startled eyes of Reverend Fort and his son, who had come to pray for the sufferer. Lucy was unable to eat these either, but expressed her thanks, and from this time, twenty days after the attack began, she steadily improved until she was out of danger.
The delighted Spirit lavished praise on Dr. Hopson, the family physician; and I think that we must also give the credit for Mrs. Bell's recovery to this practitioner, for the Spirit seems to have been singularly inept in cases of sickness. Not only was it unable to help Mrs. Bell by supernatural means, but it was not very good at providing food a sick person could relish. Nuts and grapes were in season and were easily procured from the woods, but they are not necessarily what the doctor would order for an invalid.
As the wife improved, the husband grew worse. In mid-October Mr. Bell had a severe attack. He stayed in bed for almost a week, the Spirit cursing and threatening him all the while. On the morning of the twentieth he felt better, so he woke Richard and asked the boy to accompany him to the hog pens, in order to separate the stock hogs from the animals designated to be fattened for slaughter.
They had not gone far before one of Mr. Bell's shoes was jerked off his foot. Richard put his father's shoe back on, drawing the laces as tight as possible and tying a double knot. Mr. Bell started out again. It had not rained for several days, and the ground was dry and smooth. But after a few steps Mr. Bell's other shoe flew off.
The courageous old gentleman persevered. He and his son reached the pen and did what they had come to do. No sooner had they started back to the house than the insane performance began again. Mr. Bell's shoes flew off his feet. His body jerked and twitched in frightful convulsions, while the crisp autumn air rang with the derisive laughter and vulgar songs of the Spirit.
For the first and last time Richard saw his father break down. Tears streamed from his eyes as he told his son he feared his time had come.
With Richard's help Mr. Bell finally reached the house. There they were met by John Junior, who ran to their assistance, horrified at his father's appearance.
"His shoestrings were broken, his feet had bleeding gashes on them, his face was livid in spots, as from blows. His eyes were red and watery, as though he had received punches in both eyes. His face was contorted and twitching; he still complained of pain all over his face, in his eyes and about his head."
Richard was almost incoherent with shock, but he managed to give his older brother an account of what had happened, and the two young men helped their father into bed. Then John ran out of the house. Lifting his hands
Despite this concern, Mrs. Bell gradually grew worse. The family feared she was dying, and the Spirit became absolutely frantic with worry. It was particularly concerned about Lucy's appetite, or lack thereof. One day, in the same plaintive voice, it asked, "Luce, poor Luce, how do you feel now? Hold out your hands, Luce, and I will give you something."
Obediently Lucy cupped her hands. Into them fell a rain of hazelnuts, apparently originating from the empty air above the bed.
The ladies who were visiting the sick woman exclaimed in astonishment. One of them climbed on a chair to examine the ceiling, but found not even a crack through which the nuts could have been dropped.
"Say, Luce, why don't you eat the nuts?" the Spirit demanded.
"I cannot crack them."
"Well, I will crack some for you."
Cracking sounds were distinctly heard before the fragments of nuts dropped into the bed.
"Eat the nuts, they will do you good," the voice insisted.
"You are so kind," Lucy said tactfully. "But I am too sick to eat them."
So the next offering was a bunch of grapes, which appeared on her bedside table before the startled eyes of Reverend Fort and his son, who had come to pray for the sufferer. Lucy was unable to eat these either, but expressed her thanks, and from this time, twenty days after the attack began, she steadily improved until she was out of danger.
The delighted Spirit lavished praise on Dr. Hopson, the family physician; and I think that we must also give the credit for Mrs. Bell's recovery to this practitioner, for the Spirit seems to have been singularly inept in cases of sickness. Not only was it unable to help Mrs. Bell by supernatural means, but it was not very good at providing food a sick person could relish. Nuts and grapes were in season and were easily procured from the woods, but they are not necessarily what the doctor would order for an invalid.
As the wife improved, the husband grew worse. In mid-October Mr. Bell had a severe attack. He stayed in bed for almost a week, the Spirit cursing and threatening him all the while. On the morning of the twentieth he felt better, so he woke Richard and asked the boy to accompany him to the hog pens, in order to separate the stock hogs from the animals designated to be fattened for slaughter.
They had not gone far before one of Mr. Bell's shoes was jerked off his foot. Richard put his father's shoe back on, drawing the laces as tight as possible and tying a double knot. Mr. Bell started out again. It had not rained for several days, and the ground was dry and smooth. But after a few steps Mr. Bell's other shoe flew off.
The courageous old gentleman persevered. He and his son reached the pen and did what they had come to do. No sooner had they started back to the house than the insane performance began again. Mr. Bell's shoes flew off his feet. His body jerked and twitched in frightful convulsions, while the crisp autumn air rang with the derisive laughter and vulgar songs of the Spirit.
For the first and last time Richard saw his father break down. Tears streamed from his eyes as he told his son he feared his time had come.
With Richard's help Mr. Bell finally reached the house. There they were met by John Junior, who ran to their assistance, horrified at his father's appearance.
"His shoestrings were broken, his feet had bleeding gashes on them, his face was livid in spots, as from blows. His eyes were red and watery, as though he had received punches in both eyes. His face was contorted and twitching; he still complained of pain all over his face, in his eyes and about his head."
Richard was almost incoherent with shock, but he managed to give his older brother an account of what had happened, and the two young men helped their father into bed. Then John ran out of the house. Lifting his hands
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