Question

The ghost that got into our house on the night of November 17, 1915, raised such
a hullabaloo of misunderstandings that I am sorry I didn't just let it keep on walking,
and go to bed. Its advent caused my mother to throw a shoe through a window of the
house next door and ended up with my grandfather shooting a patrolman, I am sorry,
therefore, as I have said, that I ever paid any attention to the footsteps. They began
about a quarter past one o'clock in the morning, a rhythmic, quick-cadenced walking
around the dining-room table. My mother was asleep in one room upstairs, my
brother Herman in another; grandfather was in the attic, in the old walnut bed which,
as you will remember, once fell on my father. I had just stepped out of the bathtub
and was busily rubbing myself with a towel when I heard the steps. They were the
steps of a man walking rapidly around the dining room table downstairs. The light
from the bathroom shone down the back steps, which dropped directly into the
dining-room; I could see the faint shine of plates on the plate-rail; I couldn't see the
table. The steps kept going round and round the table; at regular intervals a board
creaked, when it was trod upon. I supposed at first that it was my father or my brother
Roy, who had gone to Indianapolis but were expected home at any time. I suspected​

Answer 1

Answer:

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