Most of the girls succeeded in gathering a handful, before they started on. They proceeded at a leisurely pace, pausing now and then to hunt for nuts or to examine other objects of interest to the student of nature.

"Why, there are some birds, and they're not sparrows, either!" said Daisy Gravers, indicating several slate-colored birds about the size of English sparrows. "I didn't know there were any other winter birds around here!"

"They are Juncos, or s...o...b..rds," explained the Captain. "They are a winter bird with us, and as soon as the warm weather comes they will fly north. Don't forget to put them down in your notebooks, girls."

They had now reached the outskirts of the woods, through which they had been walking for some time, and Miss Phillips called a halt and suggested that they count their nuts. Ruth, who had been the most diligent searcher, won the game, having found a greater number of varieties than any of the other girls. The Scout Captain told them something about each variety and the tree upon which it grew, before they continued their walk.

"Only a short distance along this road, and we reach the haunted house,"

said Miss Phillips.

The girls walked closer around her. They had emerged into open country, and were climbing a winding road which extended before them uphill; on their left the land descended gradually to a valley below them, where in the distance, they could see the scattered houses nestled among the fields of fertile farm-land.

"The nearest village is about a mile down the valley," the Captain informed them. "When the haunted house was built it was the farthest away from the village, but since that time a number of others have sprung up all around here."

Mounting to the top of the hill, they found that the road, instead of dipping suddenly down again, was level; and that to the right of it there started a high stone wall which followed the irregularities of the road for a considerable distance. It was covered with lichen and moss, and showed gaps here and there where the mortar had crumbled away and the stones fallen in a heap upon the ground; while in other places, the tangled growth of ivy vines almost entirely obscured the stonework.

The Scouts kept to the road until they came to a break in the wall which formed the gateway. Wide open and sagging inward, two ma.s.sive gates of iron grill-work had rusted and settled upon their hinges until they were firmly imbedded and immovable in the ground. The girls stopped and were examining the intricacy and beauty of the design in the wrought iron-work, when an old woman came hobbling along the road towards them.

Doris shivered; in fact, all of the girls trembled in spite of themselves: for the creature, thin, tattered, and old, reminded them of a ghost herself.

"I wouldn't go in there, if I was you girls," she warned them, holding up her bony hand. "There was a strange-lookin' figer there last week or so! n.o.body seen her come, and n.o.body seen her go--only once or twice some of us that lives near-by saw her through the winder. Some said she were a human, out of her mind, some says she were a spirit--only but for the boat she brung with her, and went away in again!"

"The boat!" repeated Marjorie, breathlessly. "Was it a canoe?"

But the old woman shook her head; she did not know any distinction among varieties of boats.

"She must 'a come by the stream at the back of the house, and vanished the same way," muttered the stranger; "but whoever she was, she wan't no good! What with her, and the old ghost that some says shrieks around the house o' nights n.o.body'd get me inside! I wish you wouldn't go in!"

"Oh, nothing will hurt us," said Miss Phillips, gently. "We want some place that is protected from the wind where we can eat our supper."

"It was Frieda! I know it was Frieda!" cried Marjorie, after the old woman had left them.

"Well, what if it was?" remarked Ruth. "You'll never see your canoe again, so there's no use of your getting so excited."

"Probably not," a.s.sented Marjorie, making a desperate effort to calm herself. For Ruth could never understand what the thing meant to her.

Nevertheless, she was encouraged to have this much information about the girl.

Close together, and keyed up with excitement, they advanced eagerly along the lane leading to the house, which they could see about a hundred yards away, gray-white through the grove of tall trees which surrounded it. And as they drew nearer their agitation seemed to become intensified, as if they were about to discover--they knew not what!

The house itself was a perfect example of old Colonial mansion, with its wide, hospitable doorway before which tall columns supported a balcony.

Its exterior, despite the appearance of age and decay that was everywhere apparent, was still impressive by reason of its great beauty of design.

Standing among the rank weeds which grew waist high about the place, they gazed in awe at the walls which once were white, but now were streaked and weather stained; at the windows, whose broken panes admitted the rain or the sunshine, and from which the shutters were sagging or had fallen completely away; at the shingles of the roof, violet-toned and curling up; and at the nests the birds had built in the chimneys and eaves.

As Miss Phillips stepped upon the low porch, the rotting boards bent beneath her weight. Trying the k.n.o.b of the ma.s.sive door, she found it locked.

"I guess we'll have to get in some other way," she said. "Let's walk around and investigate."

They followed her around to the back, where through the trees they caught sight of the glistening water of the stream. But here also the doors were locked, and not wishing to effect an entrance through a window if a door were available, they pa.s.sed around to the left wing.

Here they mounted the broad piazza, and Ruth turned the k.n.o.b of the door, which opened. She entered boldly, while the rest of the girls followed more cautiously behind her. They were in a large room, well lighted by its many windows. A damp, musty odor pervaded the place.

"This was evidently the conservatory," remarked the Captain. "Let's look farther."

They explored room after room, holding their breath as they entered each one, as if they were about to discover something strange and terrifying there. But there was nothing but dust and cobwebs to greet their eyes.

They went about opening doors, investigating bedrooms, peering into closets; but they could find nothing interesting or exciting--not the slightest vestige of a ghost.

"I guess this ghost only walks at night," said Lily,--"or at certain seasons of the year."

"It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?" agreed Doris, grown quite brave.

Up to this time, not one girl had actually admitted to herself that she did not expect to find a ghost; and none could tell from the Captain's expression what she thought of it; but now they were positive that they did not believe in ghosts--the idea was too preposterous--especially when Lily, upon opening a closet-door, exposed an old wig-form which lay on the shelf, and which caused them great amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I dare say the people who lived here wore artificial wigs, both men and women," commented Miss Phillips; "it was about that period."

If there ever was a ghost, it was one which left no traces; and the girls became more at ease in this atmosphere of emptiness. They did, however, have one brief moment of panic. They had all climbed the stairs to the third floor and had paused upon the landing, undecided as to which way they should go first, when a sharp whirring or rustling was heard in the room nearest them.

For an instant they all stood perfectly still, paralyzed by fright. Then Miss Phillips, with a quick step forward, flung open the door. This act started the rustling again; and through the open doorway they could see that it was nothing but a swallow which had in some way become imprisoned there. Marjorie caught it in her hand, where it lay palpitating distressedly; and thrusting her arm through a broken pane of gla.s.s, allowed the creature to escape.

The short autumn day was drawing to a close, and the chillness of the damp, musty atmosphere was beginning to affect the girls unpleasantly.

The sight of another fireplace--there seemed to be one in every room--recalled Miss Phillips's thoughts to practical things.

"Let's go down to that big room," she suggested, "and prepare our supper."

In fifteen minutes a bright fire was going and the kettle boiling cheerily. The girls were so busy hurrying to and fro in preparation of the meal that they had forgotten the ghost.

It was only after they were seated on the floor, and had time to look around, that Marjorie recalled the situation to their minds by remarking,

"Can you imagine Frieda Hammer staying here all night long by herself?"

The girls shuddered at the suggestion.

"Wouldn't it be great if we could trace her?" said Edith, after a moment's silence. "I hate to think of her all alone--with no protection."

"Yes," answered Miss Phillips, "though I haven't said much about the matter, the girl has been constantly in my mind. And I wanted to tell you that I have written to a friend of mine, a woman who is a private detective, and asked her to look into the matter. She would, of course, make nothing public, but would only try to bring Frieda back here, or send her home.

"But I have been thinking that perhaps some of you girls might have a plan, so I am going to offer a medal of merit to any Scout who locates her. During Thanksgiving--well, I will leave it to you! But we simply must find Frieda!"

The fire had died down to the coals, and the girls grew silent as they gazed dreamily at the pictures their imaginations invented. It was Doris who spoke first.

"Now is a good time for the story, Captain. Please tell us!" she pleaded.

Miss Phillips hesitated, glancing keenly at the eager faces of the girls around her, who now seemed perfectly calm and self-possessed. Then she looked at her watch; it was not quite six o'clock. There would still be time; but she hesitated to tell a ghost-story in the same house--in the very room!--where the ghost was supposed to appear. It was the girls'

own tranquil manner that decided her.

"When I was a freshman at Miss Allen's," she began, "I roomed with a soph.o.m.ore whose home was not far from here. Several times I went with her to spend week-ends with her parents. On one of these occasions, after we had finished dinner and were comfortably seated around the open fire, her grandfather--a very old man with snow-white hair--was talking of his boyhood in this neighborhood. Even then this house was believed haunted, but the story was better known than it is now, when there are few living who could tell the details. It was my good fortune to hear it from his own lips, just as his grandfather had told him.

"His grandfather, he said, was a frequent guest here in the old days.

The man who built this house came over from England, it was said, to escape scandal. Very wealthy, handsome, and of n.o.ble birth, to all appearances he was a gentleman, having a very gracious way about him; but in reality he was wayward, headstrong, and dissipated. He entertained lavishly, and his parties were the talk of the countryside--especially the dress-ball which he gave every New Year's Eve, starting at midnight and continuing throughout the next day and night. It was after one of these New Year's parties, which was particularly riotous, that he disappeared as mysteriously as he had come. Friends who called at the house several days after the event found that the servants and the furniture had vanished, no one knew whither, and the house completely empty. Naturally, this gave rise to much speculation on the part of the townsfolk, who invented many stories; some said that he had repented of his evil ways and fled into retirement; others that the devil had carried him off for a companion in wickedness.