"Well," she said, "I dunno as I b'lieve all they say, but some can tell
pretty well. Did you ever try any projects?"

"No. How is that done?" I asked.

"O! there's ever so many! One is, you pick two of them big thistles
'fore they are bloomed out, then you name 'em and put 'em under your
piller; the one that blooms out fust will be the one you will marry.
'Nuther one is to walk down cellar at twelve o'clock at night,
backwards, with a looking-glass in your hand. You will see your man's
face in the glass. But there! I don't know as its best to act so. You
know how Foster got sarved?"

"No. How was it?"

"Why! Didn't you never hear? Well, Foster told the Devil if he would let
him do and have all he wanted for so many year, when the time was out,
he would give himself, soul and body, to the Devil. He signed the
writing with his blood; Foster carried on a putty high hand, folks was
afear'd of him. When the time was up, the Devil came: I guess they had a
tough battle. Folks said they never heard such screams, and in the
morning his legs and arms was found scattered all over the cowyard."

I recognized in this tragic story, Marlowe's Faustus. I was much amused
at Lucy's rendering.

A few weeks afterwards she told me how the house where she lived was
haunted. I asked her, "Who haunts it?"