Now gather 'round and hear a tale ole' poppy's been meaning to tell ya. Don't get too close to the fire, wouldn't want to burn your eyebrows off, now would ya. Let's see, where was I . . . right!

A long time ago before the first potter even started scrapping away in the valley, an engineer named Gill came to town. He traveled here from his country in Europe which was . . . which was . . . well now some say he came from Ireland, or Holland. But I reckon he came from Germany 'cause his daughter's name was Gretchen. That's a German name if I ever heard one, but none of that's important and I'm boring yunz with the ramblings of an old goat.

Gill left his home bringing his daughter and his lovely wife. But on the way, his wife died to a horrible illness at sea. They buried that poor soul in the ocean. If you'd ask me, the ocean is a restless and ever changing pit we hardly understand. She'd probably never find rest at the bottom of those cold Atlantic waters. Sailor's stories aren't all exciting fer nothin', and between yunz and me I'd say ole' Davy Jones has a locker full of lost souls and misery.

Gill and his daughter Gretchen settled here in the valley. Finding work as the head engineer of Lock 41. In fact, the ruins of that ole' lock is just in the woods behind us. He was a good hard working fellow. He worked so hard he probably could have been Irish. He found himself a good couple of years work out here in this very forest. In fact, his house is just through those woods over there. It was a good living, and hard work helps you forget the past which haunts us. Oh, poor Gill struggled day to day with his wife gone. Love can get the best of us, especially when we don't have it no more.

Eventually, things took a bad turn for Gill and his little girl Gretchen. She was just about your age when she caught Malaria. Girl got so sick, she was bed ridden for the last few weeks of her twelve years of life. She died at the tail end of summer on this very night all those years ago. It's a time when pups like yunz should be full of laughter, hollerin', and mischief. Let me tell ya, those were the days. Treasure 'em.

Stricken with grief, our friend Gill decided he would cross the Atlantic and return home. He wanted to bury his dead little girl in his native land, something he wasn't able to do for his wife. He was of the honorable sort and stayed here until his job was done. So, what did he do with the body of his daughter? Why, he locked her up in the lock. Hah - that one never gets old.

Finally, Gill finished his work and was ready to return home. He freed his daughter's body from the lock and set sail to Europe. Remember what I was saying 'bout those restless spirits in the ocean?  You can't find rest at sea, I promise you that. Just as they passed over the lick of water where they buried Gretchen's mother, the ship was caught in a terrible storm. Davy Jones always has room for another soul or two in his locker, and what better souls than the two others he needed to collect for his set. Good ole' Gill, Gretchen, and the entire crew of that ship sank to the bottom of the ocean, never to be heard from again. That is, of course, except for Gretchen.

They say ghosts like to linger in places which make them happy. Of all the places in the world for lil' Gretchen to return to, she chose Lock 41. Some say you can still hear her cries, and at times, even see the little girl strolling around these woods. Others say they've seen her at the grist mill or the bridge, but I reckon they're seeing Esther Hale, the poor bride whose groom never showed up at their wedding. But that's a different story, and this ole' goat does like to ramble.

If you want my opinion, ole' Gill never actually removed the body of his daughter from the lock. It was either impossible for him to reopen her tomb without damaging the lock, or something else happened to the little girl. Ghosts don't haunt a place for no reason, and if it were me, I'd be with my family in the ocean. No, I think something terrible happened to that little girl all of those years ago, and this little tale might be covering up the truth.