In the center of the swirling mist, Amy could see women in long dresses, dancing and twirled by their partners who wore suspenders, beards and moustaches, high boots and homespun shirts without collars. They looked to be having a very good time, swinging around the dance floor to the tune she and the band and the sad fiddler played.

As Amy felt compelled to keep playing, she suddenly realised with a cold strike of shock that she could see right through the eerie dancers. Her heart beating in a triphammer of terror and fascination, she trembled, longing to turn and flee. Now it was just the fiddler and her playing for the forgotten dancers. She looked at Miss Lucy and the others with incredulous eyes. They didn't seem to notice naything unsual and were dancing their own reels out on the floor...she could faintly hear the band playing a different song which they swung to the beat of...And he did like the ladies, the rise and fall/Of their ankles and dresses out on the dance floor/And rollin' the dice and spinnin' the Wheel/But he took most delight in the Slip Jigs and Reels...

Suddenly, Amy was pivoted around, so that she was facing the sad fiddler. Sparks of anger flew from his eyes, his playing became faster and more frantic; exhausted, almost spent, Amy drew a deep breath in an effort to keep up with him, for she felt the hand of mortality on her shoulder lest she falter and fail. Some rational part of mind screamed in rebellion, but in her heart she knew if she failed, the entire town would pay the consequences.