"The beast!" she cried, referring to the pious occupant of the back bedroom; "the mean, wicked, miserable old miser! To think of his being a relative of yours, Aunt Thankful, and treating you so! And accepting your hospitality at the very time when he is considering taking your home away from you!"

Thankful smiled ruefully. "As to that, Emily," she said, "I ain't greatly surprised. Judgin' by what I've seen of Sol Cobb, I should say 'twas a part of his gospel to accept anything he can get for nothin'.

But how he can have the face to pray while he's doin' it I don't see.

What kind of a G.o.d does he think he's prayin' to? I should think he'd be scared to get down on his knees for fear he'd never be let up again. Well, if there IS a ghost in that room I should say this was its chance."

"A ghost? What are you talking about, Auntie?"

"Eh? Oh, nothin', nothin'. Did I say 'ghost'? I didn't realize what I said, I guess."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Oh, I don't know. . . . There, there, don't let's get any more foolish than we can help. Let's go to bed. We'll have to turn out awful early in the mornin' to get Georgie's stockin' hung up and his presents ready.

Now trot off to bed, Emily."

"Aunt Thankful, you're hiding something from me. I know you are."

"Now, Emily, you know I wouldn't--"

"Yes, you would. At least, you have. All this time you have been deceiving me about that mortgage. And now I think there is something else. What did you mean by a ghost in that room?"

"I didn't mean anything. There ain't any ghost in that room--the one Solomon's in."

"In THAT room? Is there one in another room?"

"Now, Emily--"

"Aunt Thankful, there is something strange in some room; don't deny it.

You aren't accustomed to deceiving people, and you can't deceive me now.

Tell me the truth."

"Well, Emily, it's all such perfect foolishness. You don't believe in ghosts, do you?"

"Of course I don't."

"Neither do I. Whatever it is that snores and groans in that little back room ain't--"

"AUNTIE! What DO you mean?"

Thankful was cornered. Her attempts at evasion were useless and, little by little, Emily drew from her the story of the little back bedroom, of her own experience there the night of their first visit, of what Winnie S. had said concerning the haunting of the "Cap'n Abner place," and of Miss Timpson's "warning." She told it in a low tone, so as not to awaken Georgie, and, as she spoke, the wind shrieked and wailed and groaned, the blinds creaked, the water dripped and gurgled in the gutters, and the shadows outside the circle of light from the little hand lamp were black and threatening. Emily, as she listened, felt the cold shivers running up and down her spine. It is one thing to scoff at superst.i.tion in the bright sunlight; it is quite another to listen to a tale like this on a night like this in a house a hundred years old. Miss Howes scoffed, it is true, but the scoffing was not convincing.

"Nonsense!" she said, stoutly. "A ghost that snores? Who ever heard of such a thing?"

"n.o.body ever did, I guess," Thankful admitted. "It's all too silly for anything, of course. I KNOW it's silly; but, Emily, there's SOMETHIN'

queer about that room. I told you what I heard; somethin' or somebody said, 'Oh, Lord!' as plain as ever I heard it said. And somethin' or somebody snored when Miss Timpson was there. And, of course, when they tell me how old Mr. Eldredge snored in that very room when he was dyin', and how Miss Timpson's sister snored when SHE was sick, it--it--"

"Oh, stop, Auntie! You will have ME believing in--in things, if you keep on. It's nonsense and you and I will prove it so before I go back to Middleboro. Now you must go to bed."

"Yes, I'm goin'. Well, if there is a ghost in that room it'll have its hands full with Sol Cobb. He's a tough old critter, if ever there was one. Good night, Emily."

"Good night, Aunt Thankful. Don't worry about the--ha! ha!--ghost, will you?"

"No, I've got enough to worry about this side of the grave. . . . Mercy!

what's the matter?"

"Nothing! I--I thought I heard a noise in--in the hall. I didn't though."

"No, course you didn't. Shall I go to your room with you?"

"No indeed! I--I should be ashamed to have you. Where is Imogene?"

"She's up in her room. She went to bed early. Goodness! Hear that wind.

It cries like--like somethin' human."

"It's dreadful. It is enough to make anyone think. . . . There! If you and I talk any longer we shall both be behaving like children. Good night."

"Good night, Emily. Is Georgie asleep at last?"

"I think so. I haven't heard a sound from him. Call me early, Auntie."

Thankful lit her own lamp; Emily took the one already lighted and hastened down the hall. Thankful shut the door and prepared for bed.

The din of the storm was terrific. The old house shook as if it were trembling with fright and screaming in the agony of approaching dissolution. It was a long time before Thankful fell asleep, but at last she did.

She was awakened by a hand upon her arm and a voice whispering in her ear.

"Auntie!" whispered Emily. "Auntie, wake up! Oh, DO wake up!"

Thankful was broad awake in a moment. She sat up in bed. The room was in black darkness, and she felt rather than saw Miss Howes standing beside her.

"What is it, Emily?" she cried. "What is the matter?"

"Hush, hush! Don't speak so loud. Get up! Get up and light the lamp."

Thankful sprang out of bed and hunted for the matchbox. She found it after a time and the lamp was lighted. Emily, wearing a wrapper over her night clothes, was standing by the door, apparently listening. Her face was white and she was trembling.

"What IS it?" whispered Thankful.

"Hush! I don't know what it is. Listen!"

Thankful listened. All she heard were the noises of the storm.

"I don't hear anything," she said.

"No--no, you can't hear it from here. Come out into the hall."

Cautiously and on tiptoe she led the way to the hall and toward the head of the front stairs. There she seized her cousin's arm and whispered in her ear.

"Listen--!" she breathed.

Thankful listened.