I certainly cannot tell why I make the choices that I do. Something just strikes me, sticks with me, and I set it aside. So it is with Oliver Onions’ ghost story The Beckoning Fair One. It’s old, 1911-ish, and resides inside the torn and faded red cover of A Treasury of Short Stories that I picked up someplace in the U.P. The book has many engaging stories, but when I look at it, sitting on my headboard, it is always The Beckoning Fair One that comes into my mind.