"You see how he comes around with the dog every hour on the tolling of the Meeting House clock?" I whisper. The bell sounds off in the distance. There is the call of a night watchman down in the town sayin' that all's well. "He is not a smart man, as he never varies in his rounds."
Ephraim nods in the dark, and he and I duck around the side of the school as the man with the dog appears in the graveyard under the pale moonlight. Betsey is there in the shadows, too, and she clutches Ephraim's arm as he comes back to her from our scouting mission.
"So I will distract him when he is at the far end of his round, on the other side of the church?"
"Right. But you must give no sign you know anything about this school or anyone in it, or the Preacher will know that it is not ghosts who are after him, but real people. And that I know he can deal with."
"How long, Jacky?"
"Just five minutes is all it will take."
I have a special treat for Reverend Mather tonight.
***
We are arrayed. I put on my costume with the aid of Annie and Betsey and Sylvie up in my old room into which we have all snuck. Ephraim is given a bottle to portray a wandering drunk. And in my sack, I have my Other Item.
At the appointed hour, Ephraim heads to the east side of the church and I make my preparations by the wall. I can see the man and his dog over there, and then I see the dog raise his head suddenly and pull at the leash. "What is it, boy?" the man asks and follows the dog out of sight. This is my cue to rise up, go to the wall, and kneel down. I'll then crawl to the grave and stand up and wait for the Reverend. If he don't come to the window, then the night's work is lost.
I'm standin' there weaving back and forth, hopin' I don't hear Ephraim's warning whistle, which'll signal that the watchman is comin' back to this side, when Reverend Mather appears in the window and he sees me right off. He starts backward, as usual, but then he comes to the window and opens it and leans out and says in a low voice, "I know what you are and what you want but you won't succeed ... you won't ... you..."
I think he's just noticed my Other Item. Cradled in my arms I have my baby doll that I used in our act when we sang "Queer Bungo Rye," and I am rocking it back and forth like any young mother, 'cept more slow and sad. And I hum a lullaby, slow and sad. More of a soft keening, as strange and not-of-this-world as I can make it.
At the window he lifts his arms and crosses his fingers in the cross sign in front of his face to ward off evil. Well, Preacher, that ain't gonna work, 'cause the evil ain't down here. Look within yourself. I hope this will help.
"No. No," he croaks. "No, I didn't ... I didn't..."
I have taken the baby doll from my breast and I slowly extend my arms and hold it up to him. I have blacked out the doll's eyes and blackened its nose and drawn skull teeth across its mouth so it looks just like me.
I hear a low but clear whistle and I pull back the doll to my chest and slowly bend my knees more and more, so it looks like I'm sinking back into the grave, till I'm on my knees and then I bend forward till I'm hid behind the wall and then I quick crawls away. Done!
We meet back in the upper room. We are quiet and I wish Abby could be here, too. I am glad we all come together in good fellowship for I feel an ending coming. A good one or a bad one, I don't know. But an ending, for sure.