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window, and I saw it.
    A terrible face was there, grinning. The front teeth were missing, and the eyes beneath low, dark brows had an animal shine.
    Instantly I was back in the classroom and I wanted to run and hide in the closet. I could not do this, of course—the parlor had no closet—but I began to whimper with fear.
    Aunt Pauline gave me one of her worst frowns. Her nose touched her upper lip. She was the only one allowed to show emotion during “In Memory of Frederick.”
    My singing sisters, seemingly unaware of the frightful face at the window, sang the final “May we walk arm in arm as before.”
    Aunt Pauline’s fingers tightened on her brooch. She sighed.
    I looked back at the window. The face was gone, but it was branded on my mind, the way the image of the sun lingers on the eye. My heart pounded in my chest.
    Grandmama said, “Could we have something a little more cheerful, girls?”
    Abigail said, “This is from The Mikado , Grandmama. It’s supposed to be ‘Three Little Maids from School,’ but Miss Printis lets us say ‘Two Little Maids’ because that’s all we are. Is that all right with you, Grandmama?”
    â€œIndeed! I like children who can adapt.”
    Abigail struck a chord on the piano.
    â€œTwo little maids from school are we.
Pert as a schoolgirl well can be.
Filled to the brim with girlish glee.
Two little maids from school.”
    Augusta was busy playing the piano, but Abigail was snapping her imaginary fan like a Japanese lady.
    I only half watched my sisters. My other half was concentrated on the window.
    When, at last, the singing was over, the Bellas and I left the room. I trailed after them—still tormented by the face at the window.
    â€œAnyway,” one of them was saying, “if Frederick and Aunt Pauline do meet on that heavenly shore, he’s going to run for his life. He’s going to be young and handsome and she’s going to be old and ugly, isn’t that right?”
    â€œRight,” said the other Bella.
    I did not mention that he might be slightly disfigured with chicken pox and therefore glad to see anybody—even an elderly Aunt Pauline.
    I touched the backs of the Bellas’ pinafores with trembling hands.
    â€œWas that him?” I said, my voice trembling too.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œYou know. Mr. Tominski?”
    â€œOf course. Who’d you think it was? Santa Claus?”
    â€œWhat happened to his teeth?”
    â€œHe broke them off eating children.”
    I gulped with shock. “That’s not true.”
    â€œYes, it is!” they said together. They never contradicted each other.
    â€œI don’t believe it.”
    â€œWell, it’s true.”
    â€œEven if he saved Papa’s life, Papa wouldn’t let him stay if he did that. He wouldn’t let Cook take him his meals. He wouldn’t—”
    â€œDon’t believe us then. We don’t care.”
    â€œThat’s right. We don’t care. If you don’t believe us, just go walking back in the woods. You’ll find out.”
    I had never been drawn to the woods the way the twins seemed to be. I would often stop at the edge, watch them disappear and return to the house.
    That night I dreamed of the toothless face. In my dream, Mr. Tominski looked at me. Blood dripped from his mouth. He licked his lips and grinned.
    I woke up trembling.

chapter ten
    Jekyll, Hyde, Abigail, and I
    â€œJ ekyll and Hyde.”
    Abigail turned the book so I could read the whole title. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde , by Robert Louis Stevenson.
    I recognized it as one of Papa’s books—the brown leather binding, the gold letters. Papa was very particular about his books.
    â€œDid Papa say you could read that outside?”
    â€œI didn’t ask. He would just try to get me to read something more appropriate like Treasure Island .”
    â€œWhy isn’t this book