CHAPTER VII

HILLCREST

Mrs. Pritchett and Sairy really were frightened by Lyddy Bray's temerity.

As for Lucas, he still hung his head and would not look at his father.

Cyrus Pritchett had bullied his family so long that to be bearded in his own house certainly amazed him. He glared at the girl for fully a minute, without being able to formulate any reply. Then he burst out with:

"You let me ketch any other man on this ridge puttin' a plow inter the old doctor's land! I've tilled it for years, I tell ye----"

"And you can till it again, Mr. Pritchett," said Lyddy, softly. "You needn't holler so about it--we all hear you."

The coolness of the girl silenced him.

"So, now it's understood," she went on, smiling at him brightly. "And we'll try this year to make a little better crop. We really must get something more out of it than the taxes."

"Jane Hammon' won't buy no fertilizer," growled Mr. Pritchett, put on the defensive--though he couldn't tell why. "An' ye can't grow corn on run-down land without potash an' kainit, and the like."

"Well, you shall tell us all about that later," declared Lyddy, "and we'll see. I understand that you can't get blood from a turnip. We want to put Hillcrest in better shape--both in and out of the house--and then there'll be a better chance to sell it."

Cyrus Pritchett's eyes suddenly twinkled with a shrewd light.

"Does Jane Hammon' really want to sell the farm?" he queried.

"If she gets a good offer," replied Lyddy. "That's what we hope to do while we're at Hillcrest--make the place more valuable and more attractive to the possible buyer."

"Ha!" grunted Cyrus, sneeringly. "She'll get a fancy price for Hillcrest--not!"

But that ended the discussion. "Maw" Pritchett looked on in wonder. She had seen her husband beaten in an argument by a "chit of a girl"--and really, Cyrus did not seem to be very ugly, or put out about it, either!

He told Lucas to put the ponies to the wagon again, and to take the Bray girls and their belongings up to Hillcrest; and to see that they were comfortable for the night before he came back.

This encouraged Mrs. Pritchett, when Lyddy took out her purse to pay for their entertainment, to declare:

"For the good land, no! We ain't goin' to charge ye for a meal of vittles--and you gals Dr. Polly Phelps's own grandchildren! B'sides, we want ye to be neighborly. It's nice for Sairy to have young companions, too. I tell her she'll git to be a reg'lar old maid if she don't 'sociate more with gals of her own age."

Sairy bridled and blushed at this. But she wasn't an unkind girl, and she helped 'Phemie gather their possessions--especially the latter's wet clothing.

"I'm sure I wish ye joy up there at the old house," said Sairy, with a shudder. "But ye wouldn't ketch me."

"Catch you doing what?" asked 'Phemie, wonderingly.

"Stayin' in Dr. Phelps's old house over night," explained Sairy.

"Why not?"

The farmer's daughter drew close to 'Phemie's ear and whispered:

"It's ha'nted!"

"_What?_" cried 'Phemie.

"Ghosts," exclaimed Sairy, in a thrilling voice. "All old houses is ha'nted. And that's been give up to ghosts for years an' years."

"Oh, goody!" exclaimed 'Phemie, clasping her hands and almost dancing in delight. "Do you mean it's a really, truly haunted house?"

Sairy Pritchett gazed at her with slack jaw and round eyes for a minute.

Then she sniffed.

"Wa-al!" she muttered. "I re'lly thought you was _bright_. But I see ye ain't got any too much sense, after all," and forthwith refused to say anything more to 'Phemie.

But the younger Bray girl decided to say nothing about the supposed ghostly occupants of Hillcrest to her sister--for the present, at least.

There was still half a mile of road to climb to Hillcrest, for the way was more winding than it had been below; and as the girls viewed the summit of the ridge behind Aunt Jane's old farm they saw that the heaped-up rocks were far more rugged than romantic, after all.

"There's two hundred acres of it," Lucas observed, chirruping to the ponies. "But more'n a hundred is little more'n rocks. And even the timber growin' among 'em ain't wuth the cuttin'. Ye couldn't draw it out.

There's firewood enough on the place, and a-plenty! But that's 'bout all--'nless ye wanted to cut fence rails, or posts."

"What are those trees at one side, near the house?" queried Lyddy, interestedly.

"The old orchard. _There's_ your nearest firewood. Ain't been much fruit there since I can remember. All run down."

And, indeed, Hillcrest looked to be, as they approached it, a typical run-down farm. Tall, dry weed-stalks clashed a welcome to them from the fence corners as the ponies turned into the lane from the public road. The sun had drawn a veil of cloud across his face and the wind moaned in the gaunt branches of the beech trees that fringed the lane.

The house was set upon a knoll, with a crumbling, roofed porch around the front and sides. There were trees, but they were not planted near enough to the house to break the view on every side but one of the sloping, green and brown mountainside, falling away in terraced fields, patches of forest, tablelands of rich, tillable soil, and bush-cluttered pastures, down into the shadowy valley, through which the river and the railroad wound.

Behind Hillcrest, beyond the outbuildings, and across the narrow, poverty-stricken fields, were the battlements of rock, shutting out all view but that of the sky.

Lonely it was, as Aunt Jane had declared; but to the youthful eyes of the Bray girls the outlook was beautiful beyond compare!

"Our land jines this farm down yonder a piece," explained Lucas, drawing in the ponies beside the old house. "Ye ain't got n.o.body behind ye till ye git over the top of the ridge. Your line follers the road on this side, and on the other side of the road is Eben Brewster's stock farm of a thousand acres--mostly bush-parsture an' rocks, up this a-way."

The girls were but momentarily interested in the outlook, however. It was the old house itself which their bright eyes scanned more particularly as they climbed down from the wagon.

There were two wings, or "ells." In the west wing was the kitchen and evidently both sitting and sleeping rooms, upstairs and down--enough to serve all their present needs. Aunt Jane had told them that there were, altogether, twenty-two rooms in the old house.

Lucas. .h.i.tched his horses and then began to lift down their luggage. Lyddy led the way to the side door, of which she had the key.

The lower windows were defended by tight board shutters, all about the house. The old house had been well guarded from the depredations of casual wayfarers. Had tramps pa.s.sed this way the possible plunder in the old house had promised to be too bulky to attract them; and such wanderers could have slept as warmly in the outbuildings.

Lyddy inserted the key and, after some trouble, for the lock was rusty, turned it. There was an ancient bra.s.s latch, and she lifted it and pushed the door open.

"My! isn't it dark--and musty," the older sister said, hesitating on the threshold.

"Welcome to the ghosts of Hillcrest," spoke 'Phemie, in a sepulchral voice.

"Oh, don't!" gasped Lyddy.