The Ghost of Tillie Jean Cassaway by Ellen Harvey Showell

of the children,” she called. “Didn’t know you had a young’un with you!”
    The man lowered his gun and slowly came forward. He stopped a couple of yards from the door and muttered, so the woman could hardly hear him, “I come to take her back home.”
    â€œShe says her name is Tillie Jean Cassaway,” said Granny. “That’s the name of a child that drowned.”
    The man grew red in the face. “Ain’t none of your business what she’s called,” he said. “Send her out here.”
    â€œI ain’t goin’ to do that, and don’t raise that gun! You want to be arrested for threatening an old woman and children with firearms?”
    He stared at her with anger.
    â€œCome on in and talk like a peaceable man,” she said.
    â€œI’ll talk out here.”
    Granny told Tillie Jean to stay inside, then stepped closer to the man. “Morton?” she said, peering up at his face as though not certain it was he. “Living alone too much has made you lose good sense, I believe. What’s all this about?”
    The man only said, “That girl belongs with me. I don’t want nothing to happen to her.”
    â€œShe’s all right,” said the woman. “Willy is her friend. Hilary too. She says she don’t want to go back to your place.”
    â€œHe shot her dog!” Hilary called out.
    â€œIt warn’t her dog,” said the man. “It was Tillie Jean’s.…”
    â€œTillie Jean’s dog?” questioned Granny. “Then she isn’t Tillie Jean?”
    Just then the door burst open and the red-haired girl ran out. She stopped in front of the man, holding out the sides of her skirt, and said in a high-pitched, excited voice, “See, it just fits me! It was made for me! I am Tillie Jean!” She turned and ran toward the hill that was between them and the river.
    â€œHey, come back here!” yelled Morton Craig.
    Hilary ran after her while Willy hobbled to the door. The two girls scrambled up the hillside, Tillie Jean ahead. They disappeared down the other side. Hilary followed the girl to the river and screamed at her as she waded out into the water, “Tillie Jean, come back!”
    â€œTillie Jean is drowned!” called the girl.
    â€œThen whoever you are, come back!”
    Hilary reached the girl and pulled her back toward the shore.
    â€œLet me go!” she was screaming. “Let me go!”
    Morton Craig had reached the edge of the water and called, “Bring her back here, she’s gone out of her mind!”
    Hilary took the girl’s hand and said, “I don’t know what your name is, but you’re my friend. Remember when we pretended to be Indian princesses? Well, maybe you were just pretending to be Tillie Jean. That don’t mean you are. You’re you. Come on now.”
    Sobbing, the girl went back with Hilary and the man to the Cassaway place where Granny and Willy were waiting.
    â€œMorton Craig, tell that girl she ain’t Tillie Jean Cassaway. You can see she’s mixed up in her mind, poor thing,” said Granny.
    â€œLittle girl,” said the man, looking at the child, “You ain’t Tillie Jean Cassaway. Remember, we just decided you was to tell any kids what seen you that you was Tillie Jean, so’s folks would think the kids was foolin’ when they told about seeing you, or think they was seeing ghosts. Your real name is Ann Turner.”
    â€œAnn!” exclaimed Hilary. “Hi, Ann!”
    They were all standing around the back stoop of the Cassaway house while Morton Craig told the story of why Ann Turner had become “the ghost of Tillie Jean Cassaway.” The child was wringing wet again, but Granny Barbour did not have the heart to make her wear another of the drowned girl’s dresses, and anyway the sun was out again and soon she’d be dry.
    He began, “I never married, never had