Then he sat down on the ground in the midst of the bevy of laughing girls. Lillian pa.s.sed him his piece of watermelon in her prettiest fashion. David accepted it as gracefully as Tom Curtis might have done.

When the watermelon feast was over David helped the three girls to clear away the dishes. When he came back he dropped down at Miss Betsey's side and began to wind her ball of yarn.

"I wish you would knit me some gloves this winter, Cousin Betsey," he begged boyishly.

The old lady patted him affectionately. When, before, had the boy ever called her "Cousin Betsey"? He had seemed always to try to ignore their relationship. "The lad isn't so bad-looking after all," Miss Taylor thought to herself. "He is handsome when he is happy." David had on a soft, faded, blue shirt, with a turned-down collar that showed the fine, muscular lines of his throat. He had a strong, clear-cut face, and his brown eyes were large and expressive. When he laughed his whole face changed. He looked actually happy.

Then Miss Betsey realized all of a sudden how seldom she had ever seen the boy even smile before. Perhaps, after all, Dr. Alden's prescription for Miss Betsey Taylor was precisely what she needed. Sunshine and the company of young people had really given her something to think about besides her own nerves.

"Mr. Brewster," Eleanor's voice was still a little weak from her illness, "where were you the night I was lost? Madge said you did not join the searching party until early next morning. I believe if you had been with the others, you might have found me sooner, you were so clever about finding Madge."

David's face changed suddenly. The old, sullen look crept over it. Then, as he glanced straight into Eleanor's clear eyes, his expression softened.

"I was sorry I wasn't along with the others," he answered kindly. "But I forgot to tell you something. I had an experience of my own that night. I went for a long walk. On my way back I decided to take a nap on the porch of the 'ha'nted house.' What do you think happened?" David lowered his voice to a whisper.

"You saw the ghosts?" shivered Lillian.

David nodded his head solemnly. "I suppose you'll think I am quite mad,"

he insisted. "I think I am myself when I recall the story in broad daylight. But, as sure as I am sitting here, I saw two ghosts walk up the path and pa.s.s into the empty house. They were those of an old man and a young girl. They flitted along like shadows."

"You were dreaming, boy," insisted Miss Betsey.

David shook his head. "I don't think so," he argued. "I was as wide awake as I am now. I got up and made a blind rush for home as soon as the spooks went by me."

"Girls! Miss Betsey!" called Mrs. Preston from the veranda, "it is time to come into the house to get ready for tea."

As the watermelon party scrambled to their feet Madge waved one hand dramatically. "Pause, kind friends," she commanded. "Who among us has the courage to find out whether David Brewster's 'spooks' are real? I have always longed to spend a night in a haunted house. Now, here's our chance!"

"I'm with you," answered David. "I'll go."

"So will I," announced Phil.

Miss Jenny Ann, who was in for most larks, hesitated. "Of course, I don't believe in ghosts, children; there are no such things," she declared. "Still, I shouldn't like to meet them at night."

Before the laughter at Miss Jenny Ann had ceased reinforcement for Madge's ghost party arrived from an unexpected quarter. Miss Betsey Taylor offered her services as chaperon, and suggested that the "spook investigation" take place the very next night.

CHAPTER XIX

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

It was nearly ten o'clock the following evening when four excited adventurers set out from the Preston house. They carried dark lanterns, while practical Phil had a package of lunch stored away out of sight.

She had an idea that sitting up all night in a forlorn, dirty old house was not going to be half as much sport as enthusiastic Madge antic.i.p.ated.

The little captain was not the only enthusiast in the ghost party, which was composed of herself, Phil, David and Miss Betsey. Miss Betsey Taylor had cast from her the sobriety of years. She was as eager and as interested in their midnight excursion as any young girl could have been. Not that the pursuit of ghosts had been a secret pa.s.sion of Miss Betsey's. It was only that, at the age of sixty, she was at last beginning to understand how it felt to be young, and she was as ready for adventure as any other one of the party of young folks.

Indeed, she was far more eager than Lillian Seldon, who could not be persuaded even to contemplate the thought of approaching the "ha'nted house." Lillian insisted that it was her duty to stay at home with Eleanor and Miss Jenny Ann.

No one had been told of the proposed trip except Mr. and Mrs. Preston.

The ghost party had no intention of allowing practical jokers in the neighborhood to get up "fake spooks" for their entertainment. They were seriously determined to find out why the ancient house was supposed to be inhabited by spirits from another world, and whether David Brewster had seen real ghosts during his visit to the house or only creatures of his own imagination.

Miss Betsey clung tightly to David's arm as they made their way along the dark road. The old lady wore a pale gray dress, with a soft real lace collar around her neck. Recently the houseboat girls had persuaded her to leave off her false side curls and to wave her hair a little over her ears. No change of costume could make Miss Betsey a beauty, but she was improved, and she did look a little less like an old maid. To-night Miss Betsey had concealed her dress with a long, black macintosh cape, which completely enveloped her. With her tall, spare form and her lean, square shoulders Miss Betsey looked like a grenadier. On her head she had tied, with a long gray veil, one of Jack Bolling's soft felt hats.

"Madge, if you keep on prattling such gruesome tales I shall turn back and leave you to your fate," expostulated Phil, as she urged Madge along behind David and their chaperon. "I know nothing will happen to-night, except that we will all be dead tired and wish we were safe at home in our little beds. Good gracious, what was that?" Phil gave Madge's arm a sudden pinch. "That" was an old woman hobbling along the road in the opposite direction from the four adventurers.

"Scat!" cried Miss Betsey nervously as the woman came face to face with her.

David laughed and took off his hat in the dark. The old woman had picked up her skirts and started to scurry off as fast as she could. But as she caught sight of Miss Betsey's face in the light of the lantern that David carried the old mammy paused. She was the "Mammy Ellen" to whom Mrs. Preston had talked on the day of the drive to the "ha'nted house."

"Land sakes alive, chillun, how you scairt me!" grumbled the old woman.

"When you done said 'Scat!' I thought certain you'd seen a black cat, and it jest nacherally means bad luck. Ain't you the lady I seen with Mrs. Preston?" inquired Mammy Ellen of Miss Betsey, with the marvelous memory that colored people have for faces.

Miss Betsey nodded. "I wish you would come to see me in the morning, Mammy," suggested Miss Betsey. "Long years ago I used to know Mr. John Randolph, and Mrs. Preston tells me you were a member of his family. We can't stop to-night. We are going--on up the road," concluded Miss Taylor vaguely.

Even in the darkness Madge and Phyllis could see the whites of Mammy Ellen's eyes grow larger. "You ain't a-goin' near the house of 'ha'nts,'

is you? If you do, you'll sure meet trouble, one of you, I ain't a saying which. But ef you disturb a dead ghost, he am just as apt to put his ice cold fingers on you, and you ain't no more good after that. You am sure enough done for."

"Why not, Auntie?" inquired Madge, her blue eyes dancing. Meeting this aged colored woman with her mysterious tale of ghost signs and warnings was the best possible beginning for their lark.

"Child, ef a ghost's cold fingers teches you, your heart grows stone cold. There ain't n.o.body that loves you and you don't love n.o.body ever after. Don't you go near that old house, chilluns. It ain't no place for the likes of you," pleaded Mammy Ellen. "I tell you there am more buried there than youall knows. That old house am a grave for the young and the old. Mind what I say. It sure am."

"Why do you think we are going to the 'ghost house,' Mammy?" queried David, laughing.

The old colored woman shook her head slowly. "It ain't caze I think youall's going to the old place that I warn ye; it am only caze I's so afeerd you might. I know there ain't n.o.body, in their right good senses as would want their wits scairt clean out of 'em."

"But we don't believe in ghosts, Mammy," argued Madge.

Mammy Ellen peered into Madge's bright face. "Go 'long, child," she said. "You don't believe in ghosts caze you ain't seen 'em, jest as ye don't believe in most of the things you's got to find out."

Mammy Ellen bowed courteously to Miss Betsey and the young people as she walked away from them.

"I do wish we hadn't met that old colored woman, Madge," whispered Phil.

"She makes me feel as though we were intruding on ghosts when we go prying about their haunts at night."

Every leaf of every tree, every rustling blade of gra.s.s, every stirring breath of the night wind took on a more sinister character as the four ghost-investigators slipped up the tangled, overgrown path to the house of mystery.

"We must put out all our lanterns but one," ordered David. "If any one happens to be walking along the road, we don't wish them to see us prowling about this place. Besides, we don't want to frighten the ghosts."

The three women put out the light of their lanterns. David kept his light, walking in front, with Miss Betsey next and Madge and Phyllis bringing up the rear. The women clutched at one another's skirts as they went around and around the dark old house, tumbling over crumbling bricks and tangled vines. They thought it best to look thoroughly around the outside of the house for loiterers, whether ghostly or real, before exploring the inside.

"'Chickamy, chickamy, crainey crow, went to the well to wash her toe!

When she came back her chickens were all gone.' What time is it, old Witch?" murmured Madge, giving Phil's skirt a wicked pull. Phil fell back, almost upsetting Miss Betsey, who clutched feverishly at David's coatsleeve.

"What on earth happened to you, child?" she asked tremulously.

"It was that good-for-nothing Madge's fault," laughed Phyllis.