By Kathryn Tucker Windham
Jeffrey is the mischievous “something” that has headquarters within the Windham domestic in Selma. He first made his presence identified in October 1966, and because then he has persisted, at abnormal and rare periods, to clump down the corridor, slam doorways, rock in a chair, frighten the kin cat (now deceased—through no fault of Jeffrey), circulation heavy items of furnishings, reason digital gear to malfunction, and conceal gadgets. He often accompanies Mrs. Windham on her travels, and stories of Jeffrey’s antics are extensively mentioned. “Nobody has ever been terrified of Jeffrey,” Mrs. Windham says. “He is especially handy to have—we blame every thing that is going awry on him. His in basic terms function for latest (if that observe is right) is to prod me into accumulating and retaining ‘true’ ghost tales from through the South.”
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Extra info for 13 Georgia Ghosts and Jeffrey
And Mrs. Henson dead. Murdered. Frost was dead, too. He was lying right at Mrs. Henson, like he might have been trying to protect her. "Folks figured that the stranger, whoever he was, must have thought the Hensons had some money hid at their house, and he aimed to rob them. It was a bad thing. Real bad. "The house stayed empty a long time after that. Nobody wanted to live in it. Then finally some new people moved in, folks who didn't know anything about what had happened to the Hensons. "They'd been living there a good while when the man asked somebody after preaching one Sunday if he knew anything about a white collie.
They had eaten supper in the kitchen close to the wood range, and after supper Hugh had brought in an armload of logs for the big fireplace in the front room. He had sat on a braided rug, one Grandma Deaton had made, in front of the fire and had listened to Grandpa Deaton tell tales of his boyhood. Miss Blon was grading papers, and Grandma Deaton was picking Page 15 out hickory nuts. Hugh was sleepy. He had gotten up early to go to school with his sister, and he had played many games of whoopy-hide at recess, at noontime and after school.
The boy instinctively reached out to pat the dog, to run his fingers through his fur. The dog licked Hugh's hand. Suddenly Hugh felt uneasy. Something was wrong. Grandma and Grandpa Deaton did not have a dog; in all his Page 16 visits to Scataway he had never seen a dog at their home. And how had the animal gotten into the room? The window was still closed, the door was buttoned. Hugh was frightened. "Blon! " he called as he shook his sister's shoulder. " "What is it, Hugh? " Blon asked sleepily.