Hey, all spooks aren't scary ghouls trying to suck the life out of us poor mortals. Indeed, some are quite the opposite, watching over us while we inhabit the material plane. This is a piece of Pittsburgh lore told to H&H by Anabell K., a niece of the little lass in the tale.
During the late 1920's, there was an Irish family that lived on Watson Street in the City's Uptown section, just up the road from Mercy Hospital and Duquesne University. They had five girls and a boy jammed into a small house, and three of the sisters shared a bed in one of the rooms, common enough sleeping arrangements for the era.
While cleaning the bedroom one day, one of the girls moved the bed from its' usual place. Whenever she tried to push it back to its original spot, a little man dressed in green appeared from nowhere and would push it away again. The tug-of-war with the trundle went on for awhile, until the lass at last gave in and left the bed where the little man had put it.
The girl's father came up to check on the job and asked the girl why her bed was moved. She told him that the little man put it there and that's where she was going to leave it. The dad shrugged and let it be; you don't win many arguments with a colleen.
That night, while the three girls were sleeping, the heavy plaster and lathe ceiling collapsed in a heap – right where the bed used to be. Did a protective spirit from Eire watch over the girls, or was it just the luck of the Irish?
We think it was a wee bit of both.