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"Yes," Grey went on. "I wanted to come with father, but he said no, and
so I went to my room but could not go to bed, for I knew grandpa was
dying, and I wished to see him, and I stole out the back way, and came
across the fields and into the kitchen, where I stood warming myself by
the stove and heard you all talking in the next room. I did not mean to
listen, but I could not help it, and I heard grandpa say: 'Thirty-one
years ago, to-night, I killed a man in the kitchen yonder, and buried
him under the floor, under my bed, and have slept over him ever since.'
You see I remember his very words, they affected me so much, I thought
the floor came up and struck me in the face, and that my throat would
burst with the lump which almost strangled me. I did not hear any more,
for I ran from the house into the open air where I could breathe, and
went back to Grey's Park, and up to my room without being missed at all.
I thought I should die, and that was what made me sick, and why I did
not come here till the funeral and why I did not want to see grandpa.


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