production, dictated byher papa and mamma, I suppose."
"Not stiffer than mine was," thought Claudia to herself.
"That little fellow up-stairs has something original about him. I haverather taken a fancy to him," said Lady Mildred.
"Yes," Claudia responded warmly; "I think he's a dear little fellow."
"But he can't be the eldest son; there must be one nearly grown-up, Ifancy," said Lady Mildred, with a little sigh.
Claudia looked up. What was Lady Mildred thinking of? What _could_ itmatter to her, or to any one, or to themselves even, whether Gervais waseldest or youngest of the Waldrons? A country lawyer's family heirs tonothing.
"Aunt Mildred must be half asleep," thought Claudia. "She might as welltalk as if it mattered which of _us_ was the eldest."
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE OWLS RECOGNISE ONE OF THE FAMILY.
It seemed late to Claudia when she went up to bed that night, though inreality it was not much past ten o'clock. But so much had happenedsince dark, and it had grown dark so early with the snow-storm, that itwould have been easy to fancy it was already long past midnight.
Claudia went to the window and drew back one of the curtains. The snowoverhead had quite disappeared, but down below, it lay like a carpet ofwhite, glistening faintly in the moonlight.
"How cold it looks," thought the girl with a little shiver, and MrsBall's words returned to her. Yes, it was dreadful to think that butfor what seemed a mere accident, Gervais Waldron would by this time havebeen lying dead under the snow. And had it been so, it seemed toClaudia that she would always have felt or fancied cause for self-blame.
"How thankful I am he is not the worse for it," she said to herself."Poor little fellow--I would have insisted on sending him home if he hadnot said he was to be met. He was so anxious to get away once he hadachieved his purpose. He is very anxious still to get away. I wonderif he can go home to-morrow. I am afraid he is rather unhappy at havingto stay here--all night. By the bye," and Claudia started as a thoughtstruck her, "I hope he has not heard anything about the haunted room,and all that story. It was curious that he knew the name of the chintzroom. I dare say the story is gossiped about by some of the old peoplein the neighbourhood, and he may have heard it."
She did not like to disturb him again, and she hoped that by this timehe was fast asleep. But she went out of her room as far as the springdoor, between the old and new parts of the house, near which, onopposite sides, were both her room and Jerry's. She propped the dooropen with a chair, so that if the boy were by any chance afraid and cameto look for her, he should at once see where he was. For a small lampburned all night on a side-table on the large landing, and even a littlelight goes a long way when all around is darkness. And as she made herway back again, she glanced up the old staircase to where in the gloomwas the door of the tower room.
"I wonder if the ghost is awake to-night," she thought, half-laughingly."I always seem to think of the story on moonlight nights--perhapsbecause it is then that one is tempted to look out of the window, andthat reminds me of the view from the tower room, right down the drive."
But she looked out of the window no more to-night. She was tired, andfell asleep almost immediately she got into bed.
Her dreams were, as might have been expected, somewhat disturbed andconfused. She had kaleidoscope visions of herself and Charlotte andJerry, and a snow-man shaking white flakes over them all, which, onclose examination, proved to be leaves of an exercise-book, covered withthe German prize essay. Then looking up to complain, she saw that thesnow-man had turned into Herr Marklestatter, who was running after LadyMildred with a very angry face, while Lady Mildred called for help,screaming out, "It is the ghost, it is the ghost." Claudia half wokeup, roused, as it seemed to her in her dream, by her aunt's cries. Butall was silent, and she turned round, half-smiling to herself sleepilyat her foolish fancies, and was all but dreaming again, when again asound something between a sob and a low wail, penetrated to her brain,this time effectually, for she started up, quite awake, and listened inthe darkness.
She had not long to wait. A low sound, this time translatable intowords, reached her ears.
"Miss Meredon! oh, Miss Meredon! are you there?" said a most dolefulvoice. And then came a sort of sob or groan of intense distress, thesame sound as that which had awakened her.
A faint, very faint light came from the direction of the door, showingher that it was slightly open. For the light could only come from thelittle lamp on the landing outside. But Claudia had a candle andmatches on a table close at hand.
"Who is it? what is it?" she exclaimed, trembling a little in spite ofherself, while she struck a match.
"It's me, it's only me," was the answer. "I'm so ashamed. I hopeyou'll forgive me. I hope you won't think me very rude for waking youup, but I'm so dreadfully frightened. There's been some one orsomething crying and sobbing for such a time near my room. I tried tothink it was my fancy, or the wind, or the owls, as papa said. But atlast I couldn't bear it. I'm almost sure it must be the ghost."
And by the candle which Claudia had succeeded in lighting, a queer,grotesque, but most pitiful little object revealed itself. It was Jerryof course--standing there with his poor white face, looking almost aspallid as when they had drawn him out of the snow the evening before,his blue eyes feverishly dark and bright, Claudia's nightgown a mile toobig for him trailing on the ground, and its frills standing up round hisneck and sweeping over his hands.
"I am so sorry, Gervais, so very sorry," Claudia exclaimed, almost as ifit was all her fault. "Wait a moment, dear. I'll put on mydressing-gown. Here," and she flung him a shawl which was hanging on achair close by, "wrap yourself up. You are shivering so. Is the firequite out?"
"It's not quite out in my room," said poor Jerry. "I kept seeing littlebits of light in it, and I think it made it worse, for once I thought Isaw a shadow pass between it and me," and he shivered again violently."Oh, Miss Meredon," he half sobbed, "I do wish you had let me go homelast night."
"But it was impossible--it really was," said Claudia. "You will make meblame myself for all your troubles, Gervais. I should not have let youset out to walk home in the snow."
"No, no, it wasn't your fault," said Jerry.
"Then try and leave off shivering, and tell me what frightened you so.And who can have been mischievous enough to tell you all that nonsenseabout the ghost?" she added indignantly.
"It wasn't any one here," said Jerry. "I've known it a long time, and I_never_ was frightened before. It was papa who told it us--he stayedhere once when he was a little boy, and he was frightened himself. Andhe slept in the very room where I am now--that is how I knew the name."
"Well, if your father knows the whole story he might have told you thatthe ghost _never_ appears to or is heard by any one but a member of theOsbert family, which shows _you_ couldn't have heard it, my dearGervais," said Claudia smiling, in order to comfort him, though to tellthe truth her own heart was beating a good deal faster than usual.
Jerry's face cleared.
"I didn't know that," he said. "I am very glad."
"But what am I to do?" said Claudia. "I must get you warm again. Isuppose I had better call up Mrs Ball or some one."
"Oh, no, _please_ don't," Jerry entreated. "I should be so ashamed.I'll try and not mind now, if you'd let me have the candle to go back tomy room with."
But his wan face and trembling voice belied his words--though Claudiarespected him the more for his struggle to overcome his fears.
"I'll go with you to your room," she said, "and we'll try to make up thefire. It would be much cheerier with a good blaze, wouldn't it?"
The two took their way across the landing through the door, whichClaudia had so thoughtfully propped open. And "Oh," Jerry ejaculated,"I don't know what I would have done if that door had been shut!"
The fire was by no means in a hopeless condition, and it was not thefirst time by any means that Claudia had sk
ilfully doctored one. Forshe had taken her share in many days and nights too of nursing at home,when her father's eyes were at their worst, or the younger children hadmeasles or scarlet fever. And soon a bright blaze rewarded her efforts.
"How clever you are," said Jerry admiringly. "I don't believe Charlottecould do up a fire like that. I didn't think--"
"What?" said Claudia.
"I didn't think such--such a _grand_ girl as you would know how to dothings like that."
Claudia turned her laughing face, on which rested the