CHAPTER XXX. THE GHOST ON THE DYKE
Somehow, Faith and Carl and Una could not shake off the hold which thestory of Henry Warren's ghost had taken upon their imaginations. Theyhad never believed in ghosts. Ghost tales they had heard a-plenty--MaryVance had told some far more blood-curdling than this; but those taleswere all of places and people and spooks far away and unknown. After thefirst half-awful, half-pleasant thrill of awe and terror they thoughtof them no more. But this story came home to them. The old Bailey gardenwas almost at their very door--almost in their beloved Rainbow Valley.They had passed and repassed it constantly; they had hunted for flowersin it; they had made short cuts through it when they wished to gostraight from the village to the valley. But never again! After thenight when Mary Vance told them its gruesome tale they would not havegone through or near it on pain of death. Death! What was death comparedto the unearthly possibility of falling into the clutches of HenryWarren's grovelling ghost?
One warm July evening the three of them were sitting under the TreeLovers, feeling a little lonely. Nobody else had come near the valleythat evening. Jem Blythe was away in Charlottetown, writing on hisentrance examinations. Jerry and Walter Blythe were off for a sail onthe harbour with old Captain Crawford. Nan and Di and Rilla and Shirleyhad gone down the harbour road to visit Kenneth and Persis Ford, who hadcome with their parents for a flying visit to the little old House ofDreams. Nan had asked Faith to go with them, but Faith had declined. Shewould never have admitted it, but she felt a little secret jealousy ofPersis Ford, concerning whose wonderful beauty and city glamour shehad heard a great deal. No, she wasn't going to go down there and playsecond fiddle to anybody. She and Una took their story books to RainbowValley and read, while Carl investigated bugs along the banks of thebrook, and all three were happy until they suddenly realized that it wastwilight and that the old Bailey garden was uncomfortably near by. Carlcame and sat down close to the girls. They all wished they had gone homea little sooner, but nobody said anything.
Great, velvety, purple clouds heaped up in the west and spread overthe valley. There was no wind and everything was suddenly, strangely,dreadfully still. The marsh was full of thousands of fire-flies. Surelysome fairy parliament was being convened that night. Altogether, RainbowValley was not a canny place just then.
Faith looked fearfully up the valley to the old Bailey garden. Then,if anybody's blood ever did freeze, Faith Meredith's certainly froze atthat moment. The eyes of Carl and Una followed her entranced gaze andchills began gallopading up and down their spines also. For there, underthe big tamarack tree on the tumble-down, grass-grown dyke of the Baileygarden, was something white--shapelessly white in the gathering gloom.The three Merediths sat and gazed as if turned to stone.
"It's--it's the--calf," whispered Una at last.
"It's--too--big--for the calf," whispered Faith. Her mouth and lips wereso dry she could hardly articulate the words.
Suddenly Carl gasped,
"It's coming here."
The girls gave one last agonized glance. Yes, it was creeping down overthe dyke, as no calf ever did or could creep. Reason fled before sudden,over-mastering panic. For the moment every one of the trio was firmlyconvinced that what they saw was Henry Warren's ghost. Carl sprangto his feet and bolted blindly. With a simultaneous shriek the girlsfollowed him. Like mad creatures they tore up the hill, across the roadand into the manse. They had left Aunt Martha sewing in the kitchen. Shewas not there. They rushed to the study. It was dark and tenantless.As with one impulse, they swung around and made for Ingleside--but notacross Rainbow Valley. Down the hill and through the Glen street theyflew on the wings of their wild terror, Carl in the lead, Una bringingup the rear. Nobody tried to stop them, though everybody who saw themwondered what fresh devilment those manse youngsters were up to now. Butat the gate of Ingleside they ran into Rosemary West, who had just beenin for a moment to return some borrowed books.
She saw their ghastly faces and staring eyes. She realized that theirpoor little souls were wrung with some awful and real fear, whateverits cause. She caught Carl with one arm and Faith with the other. Unastumbled against her and held on desperately.
"Children, dear, what has happened?" she said. "What has frightenedyou?"
"Henry Warren's ghost," answered Carl, through his chattering teeth.
"Henry--Warren's--ghost!" said amazed Rosemary, who had never heard thestory.
"Yes," sobbed Faith hysterically. "It's there--on the Bailey dyke--wesaw it--and it started to--chase us."
Rosemary herded the three distracted creatures to the Ingleside veranda.Gilbert and Anne were both away, having also gone to the House ofDreams, but Susan appeared in the doorway, gaunt and practical andunghostlike.
"What is all this rumpus about?" she inquired.
Again the children gasped out their awful tale, while Rosemary held themclose to her and soothed them with wordless comfort.
"Likely it was an owl," said Susan, unstirred.
An owl! The Meredith children never had any opinion of Susan'sintelligence after that!
"It was bigger than a million owls," said Carl, sobbing--oh, how ashamedCarl was of that sobbing in after days--"and it--it GROVELLED just asMary said--and it was crawling down over the dyke to get at us. Do owlsCRAWL?"
Rosemary looked at Susan.
"They must have seen something to frighten them so," she said.
"I will go and see," said Susan coolly. "Now, children, calm yourselves.Whatever you have seen, it was not a ghost. As for poor Henry Warren,I feel sure he would be only too glad to rest quietly in his peacefulgrave once he got there. No fear of HIM venturing back, and that you maytie to. If you can make them see reason, Miss West, I will find out thetruth of the matter."
Susan departed for Rainbow Valley, valiantly grasping a pitchfork whichshe found leaning against the back fence where the doctor had beenworking in his little hay-field. A pitchfork might not be of much useagainst "ha'nts," but it was a comforting sort of weapon. There wasnothing to be seen in Rainbow Valley when Susan reached it. No whitevisitants appeared to be lurking in the shadowy, tangled old Baileygarden. Susan marched boldly through it and beyond it, and rapped withher pitchfork on the door of the little cottage on the other side, whereMrs. Stimson lived with her two daughters.
Back at Ingleside Rosemary had succeeded in calming the children. Theystill sobbed a little from shock, but they were beginning to feel alurking and salutary suspicion that they had made dreadful geeseof themselves. This suspicion became a certainty when Susan finallyreturned.
"I have found out what your ghost was," she said, with a grim smile,sitting down on a rocker and fanning herself. "Old Mrs. Stimson has hada pair of factory cotton sheets bleaching in the Bailey garden for aweek. She spread them on the dyke under the tamarack tree because thegrass was clean and short there. This evening she went out to take themin. She had her knitting in her hands so she hung the sheets over hershoulders by way of carrying them. And then she must have dropped one ofher needles and find it she could not and has not yet. But she went downon her knees and crept about to hunt for it, and she was at that whenshe heard awful yells down in the valley and saw the three childrentearing up the hill past her. She thought they had been bit by somethingand it gave her poor old heart such a turn that she could not move orspeak, but just crouched there till they disappeared. Then she staggeredback home and they have been applying stimulants to her ever since, andher heart is in a terrible condition and she says she will not get overthis fright all summer."
The Merediths sat, crimson with a shame that even Rosemary'sunderstanding sympathy could not remove. They sneaked off home, metJerry at the manse gate and made remorseful confession. A session of theGood-Conduct Club was arranged for next morning.
"Wasn't Miss West sweet to us to-night?" whispered Faith in bed.
"Yes," admitted Una. "It is such a pity it changes people so much to bemade stepmothers."
"I don't believe it does," said Faith loyally.
>