“And then I wouldn’t shake hands with him because he’d been so rude. So he laughed and said I was just upset because of his hood, that I’d been imagining all these horrors. And then”—she raised her frightened eyes to theirs—“then he pulled back his hood. And he said I might have imagined other horrors, but not this one. Because—because—he wasn’t human. He just wasn’t human! Oh, Em, you were on that horse with him! I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

The three listeners exchanged amazed glances. Emily was the most startled of all. She stared blankly at her sister.

“I thought he was nice,” she said.

“Now, Kate,” asked Prim, “when you say this Mr. Marak wasn’t—human—what exactly do you mean? Do you mean he didn’t look human?”

“He, well…” Kate trailed off, looking around at their expectant faces.

“Well, what?” prompted Emily. “Did he have three eyes?”

“No, just two, but they were so strange,” she answered. “Different colors. Light and dark.”

“Kate,” said Aunt Celia kindly, “that is quite rare, but it’s not unheard of.”

“I know,” Kate replied, “but that wasn’t all. His hair was all wrong, too. It was part white and part black, like a horse’s mane, and it was long, and loose, and it wasn’t like hair somehow.” She looked helplessly at their puzzled faces.

“For heaven’s sake, Kate, he was an old man,” snorted Emily. She had secretly been hoping for empty eye sockets or no head.

“No, you’re wrong, Em, he wasn’t old. Oh, he must be old, buthe looked, well, not young, but … not old. But so ugly and bony, and his skin was so pale! And his eyebrows were all thick and bushy, and his teeth—there was something awful about his teeth.” Emily started to giggle. “Stop it, Em! I just can’t explain it.” She glared at her sister. “You wouldn’t be laughing if you saw him, too. He was just—all wrong somehow.”

“Well, Kate,” said Aunt Prim sympathetically, “he doesn’t sound like a nice old man at all.