The wagon road would take them past the little cemetery (as old as the town, though no one could say precisely who was buried there) and up the back side of the hill. It wouldn't be long now... Carol-Anne gasped when the house on the hill came into view. It was an aging and cobweb-blighted place, tied to the mysterious Halloween tradition so firmly that the night and the place were practically the same thing, and in fact both went back to the town’s founding.Every other night of the year it was abandoned except for an evil-tongued caretaker who tended the grounds and composed ever more colorful and startling obscenities to shout at those kids brave enough and curious enough to venture near. Trying to sneak into the house on the hill (on any day other than Halloween, of course) was a rite of passage for town children, but the few who succeeded were always disappointed to find nothing there of interest.But now it was different. Every door was open and every window was lit up, from the. Making it look right on someone flat-chested had involved a lotof work. I might not be looking forward to being a bride, but Iappreciated Gerda's devotion in helping me prepare for it.In the months I'd been at Castle Rumstahl my auburn hair had grown downto my shoulders and I now wore it in an under-roll at the rear, whichworked with the dress. My arms were encased in lace sleeves and the long,silk train was pooled around the stool. Beneath the dress I worestockings, a garter belt, and French knickers, items I was now so used toI barely felt them anymore. I was also laced into a tight corset, which Imost definitely did. Still, though constricting it wasn't especiallyuncomfortable, unlike the cramp I was beginning to feel in my legs fromstanding still on the small surface of that stool for so long. Thank godI wasn't wearing heels too."Are we almost done?" I asked. "Only my legs are starting to reallyache." I think that will do for now," said Gerda, standing back and surveyingher.
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