Until I interviewed five people living in their childhood homes, I had always dismissed ghost stories. Not after I talked to several of these very factual folks, each who reported various ghosts in the house. 
When I was recounting one of these stories to a Roland Park neighbor, she said, “Haven’t the boys told you about our ghost?”

I had known her most of my life and her children more than 10 years. Two sons spent a lot of time at my house and had never told me one ghost story. Both were outstanding students and told me many interesting facts and stories, but not one ghost story.
Their mother did. One night, her husband, an attorney, and oldest son were playing chess on the second floor. The son asked the father who the little girl was spending the night with his sister. The father looked perplexed. No friends were spending the night with any of the children. The boy said he had just seen a little girl about his sister’s age, four, in a nightgown in the hall. This son, still today a very literal person, an engineer, was not prone to tall tales. 
Some months later, the mother thought her small daughter was out of bed when she saw the end of a nightgown and a bare foot go by her second-floor sitting room. She rushed to the daughter’s bedroom to scold her for being out of bed so late. Her daughter was sound asleep. 
I don’t know if the new owners of this house have ever seen the little girl on the second floor, but Halloween would be a perfect time to ask.

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