The fishpond, the dove-cote and orchard belonging to "My Lady's Manor"

were visited, then they halted at the servants' quarters and obtained the key, unlocked the front door, pa.s.sed in and closed it behind them.

With almost awe at the silence, they went through the dim, richly furnished rooms, then mounted the stairs to have a view from the roof.

So full of interest was the sight of their native city to Ralph and James that it was near noon when they descended. Talking gaily, they reached the attic, and were surprised to see a little old lady in black slowly receding toward the back room.

Roy and Cecil had heard through the colored people of the apparition which made them afraid to pa.s.s the mansion late at night, but had been trained to have no belief in the supernatural, so without hesitation followed.

The spectre had glided through the door of the back attic room, but when they reached it, it was empty and silent; and perplexed, they descended to the quarters to give up the key and to deliver the message in regard to Miss Ashburton.

The boys were aware of the servants' attachment to their young mistress, but were not expecting the outburst of grief the disclosure of her death called forth, as they sobbed and moaned in the abandonment of woe, genuine and awe-stricken from the suddenness with which a long cherished hope had been shattered.

"We can't stay here no more," cried Lois with streaming eyes, "we only stayed to keep the place nice for Miss Anna; she is done gone! She will never, never come, and we must go."

"Perhaps the owner of 'My Lady's Manor' will like you to stay,"

suggested Roy, deeply touched, as were the other boys.

"No, we can't stay; Miss Anna is done gone, this is no home for us no more! Pore Miss Anna that was kept out of the home that ol' missus done give her! She was so pretty and sweet and kind and would have been living and well and happy if she hadn't been turned out of her home.

Pore Miss Anna!"

When the boys returned to "Friedenheim" they gave a full account of their visit, and after they had gone to the lawn for a game of ball, their elders sat in the seclusion of the library and wondered, as they had always done, over the mystery of the apparition.

The servants left the next day for one of the lower counties of Maryland, and "My Lady's Manor" was deserted. Silence reigned in the servants' quarters as well as in the s.p.a.cious rooms of the mansion; sunlight was shut out and spiders spun their webs in the door-ways of the cabins, as well as between the lofty pillars of the piazza.

CHAPTER V-HILDA'S NEW CARE-TAKER

Two days after the accident which had caused Mrs. Warfield to return to her farmhouse with nerves so disturbed by terror, pain and grief that she was ill for several weeks, little Hilda Brinsfield was playing under the shade of an apple tree in the garden back of the cottage of Mrs.

Ashley, it being one of the ideal days frequently enjoyed even in early spring.

"Hilda," called a subdued voice from the window, "come in, dear, and stay by your aunt while I get supper."

The little girl made no response, but laying her doll upon the bank beside her, she took up a book and applied herself diligently to spelling the words of three letters which described the gay pictures.

"Hilda!" And now Diana Strong was sitting beside her with one of her little hands in hers.

"Oh, child," she said in an endearing tone, "you will regret it some day that you are not willing to leave your play to sit a few minutes beside the sweet lady who loves you so dearly! Come now, come!"

A frown darkened the fair brow of the child, and, throwing the book upon the ground, her foot came down upon it with a quick, angry stamp.

Diana said no more, but taking her and the doll in her strong arms carried her to the house in spite of her struggles for release, and, putting her down by the door of Mrs. Ashley's room, gently pushed her in. Ill as she was, the flashing eyes and flushed cheeks of the little girl attracted the attention of Mrs. Ashley, and she sighed deeply.

"My darling is angry again," she said feebly. "Who will take care of her and teach her self-control?"

"Diana made me leave my new book," replied Hilda tearfully. "She held me so tight in her arms that it hurt me, and I could not get loose. Send her away, Aunt Janette, I don't like her! Please send her away!"

A look of pain came into the sweet face of Mrs. Ashley and she clasped her hands as if in supplication.

"Diana is very tired," she said after a pause. "She has lost much sleep in the week that I have been ill."

"I am tired, too, and want my supper," responded Hilda fretfully.

"Diana will soon have a nice supper for you, and while she is preparing it you can lie down beside me and rest."

Hilda was willing for this; she pushed a chair to the bedside, and, still clasping the doll in one arm, crept in.

The setting sun glowed ruddily through the western window, and the ticking of the clock upon the mantel, and the purring of the kitten before the smouldering wood fire upon the hearth were the only sounds which broke the stillness of the pleasant room.

"Your father named you Hilda for your sweet, young mother," said Mrs.

Ashley, taking the child's hand in hers. "He loved his little daughter so tenderly that he gave her her mother's name. She was lovely in disposition and patient, and I hope my little Hilda will be like her."

"Where are my father and mother now?"

"In heaven, my darling, where I hope soon to be with them and your dear Uncle Ashley."

"When will I go?"

"In G.o.d's own good time. Try to live each day aright, and then you will have a home with them and never be parted from them."

"Who will stay with me when you go?"

"My sister, Sarah Warfield, I hope. I have prayed for that, and G.o.d answers prayer."

"Why doesn't she write to you? You said you wanted a letter."

"Why not, oh, why not?" echoed Mrs. Ashley. "I do so long for a word from her."

"But I would rather go to heaven with you and my father and mother. What is heaven?"

"It is a beautiful home where we will live forever."

"And will we never come back?"

"No, we will be so happy we will never wish to come."

"Oh, I want to go now! Take me with you, Aunt Janette, to see my father and mother and Uncle Ashley!"

"Be patient, my love, and you will come. I cannot talk any more now; I am very weak, but will speak of it again when rested. I hope you will be polite and obedient to Diana; she is good and kind. What would we do without her?"

Hilda was silent, her thoughts busy with what she had just heard. Where was heaven? How could she get there? And what was being patient?

Diana had made good speed in preparing the evening meal, and brought a cup of tea and a slice of cream toast, daintily served, to the invalid.

"Any letter?" inquired Mrs. Ashley, eagerly scanning the countenance of the nurse as she drew near.