Chance Carrington smiled as he floated down a few steps to stand halfway down the stairs. “We’ve come to stay with you, dear children.” He paused and looked around. “What a lovely home,” he said with a sigh. “This will do quite nicely.” “Quite nicely for what?” Will asked suspiciously. Chance stretched out his arms and beamed at them all. “For our new home, of course. Ah, it’s good to be back among the living!” This was greeted with several seconds of silence. “You mean you’re … haunting us?” asked Franny. “Oh, that word,” said Chance, making a slight face. “It’s so, so …” “Distasteful.” Agnes’s tall, thin figure flickered into view near the bookcase. She gave them a stern look over the top of her spectacles. “Unpleasant. Offensive. And, worst of all, technically inaccurate. Ghosts are said to ‘haunt’ a place where they used to live or, perhaps, where they died. However, we were able to follow you—” “Agnes!” Bertha’s round figure suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs, glaring at Agnes.
