This has been in my stickies forever. I haven't been able to find anything to add to it.
"I don't know what it was," the one young lady said, trembling, to her companion. "In the woods, past the cemetery yonder, in the twilight was a girl's form. She was white as a pearl, with wind-tumbled black hair. Her eyes burned like coals. She was a ghost, a ghost, I tell you."
"No," Mrs. Tibbet said calmly, pouring the tea. "That was Shirley Nightingale. Everyone around here knows Shirley. She is good and kind, but strange. She likes to do good things for people. She makes gifts for the folks around here and leaves them on their doorstep. But everyone knows the gifts come from Shirley. She has the strangest imagination. She makes wooden carvings of animals like no one has seen. Some folks say Shirley is a witch. But she's not. She's just a little touched."
"I want to speak to her," Willow said, who had never experienced the company of a strange person, and this girl seemed safe enough.
Mrs Tibbet looked reluctant. "When sought, Shirley won't be found."
Willow smiled. "I can lure her out. I think I can lure her."