Pickey led him upstairs to one of four bedrooms. Homer figured it was just above the parlor where Pickey's son's casket had been. The hinge on the door was broken. He noticed another door over near the window. The knob was gone, and it looked as if it had been sealed up a long time.

Pickey lit a kerosene lamp for Homer and put it on a table by the bed. Then he got Homer a gallon of raw corn liquor. "You may need it," he said. "Good night, and I get up at five."

Homer pulled the quilt up around him and reached over to turn down the wick in the lamp. But before he could do so, the lamp went out by itself. Too tired to be scared, Homer went to sleep.

He awoke suddenly when he felt the quilt creeping down toward the foot of the bed. The lamp lit itself low, just enough for Homer to see a creature sliding in over the windowsill.

In the dim light, Homer realized it was a cat. "Howdy," it said. "I'd sure like a drink from that jug." Since he didn't see a bowl, Homer poured some of the corn liquor on the rug. The cat lapped it up.

"Are you a ghost or a haunt?" Homer wanted to know.

"Ghost," said the cat. "Haunts are female."

"Who are you?" said Homer.

"None of your business," the creature responded. But it came closer to Homer, as if it wanted to be petted. "Nice kitty," said Homer, reaching out his hand.

"Leave go of me," it yelped, and jumped over the sill into the dark.

The rain had stopped by this time, and the room was very quiet, but Homer couldn't fall asleep. He lay there thinking about cats and wondering why Pickey's was so different. Finally he got tired of thinking. "Go on out," he said to the lamp, and it did.

Homer was just about dozing off when he was startled by a tapping from inside the closet. Then a voice whispered, "Get in here and make me a fruit pudding. I'll tell you how."

Homer sat up in bed. "Are you a ghost or a haunt?" he wanted to know.

"I'm a lady haunt," came the answer.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Homer.

"Get me a witch doctor to help find the key to this door," the lady haunt said.

"Well, I'll look for one," said Homer wearily, easing himself out of bed.

"I'm cold. Get me a shawl," the lady haunt said next.

"Quit pestering me!" yelled Homer.

He listened for an answer, but none came. After a time the voice from the closet said, "I hope you sleep well."

"Sleep well!" he yelled. "Will you show me a man, white or black, on top side of this earth, who could sleep well in this haunt-ridden, nerve-tormenting spot? Barns burning down, cat ghosts slipping under the sill, covers creeping away, lamps going on and off, and a whiny, pesky woman in the closet!"