Thomas Kinkade New Horizons painting

Thomas Kinkade New Horizons paintingThomas Kinkade Mountain Paradise paintingThomas Kinkade Mountain Memories painting
There is something,” Andrew whispered
Whatever it might be, it was never for an instant at rest in one place. It was in the next room; it was in the kitchen; it was in the dining room.
“I’m going out to see,” Andrew said; he got up.
“Wait, Andrew, don’t, not yet,” Mary whispered “No; no”; now it’s going upstairs, she thought; it’s along the—it’s in the children’s room. It’s in our room.
“Has somebody come into the house?” Catherine inquired in her clear voice.
Andrew felt the flesh go cold along his spine. He bent near her. “What made you think so, Mama?” he asked quietly.
“It’s right here in the room with us,” Mary said in a cold voice.
“Why, how very stupid of me, I thought I heard. Footsteps.” She gave her short, tinkling laugh. “I must be getting old and dippy.” She laughed again.
“Sshh!”