THE GHOST IN THE ORCHARD
“At half-past ten by the old town clock,” in the words of The Fungus,
eight figures might have been dimly seen emerging from the dining-room
window and crossing the turf toward the lilac hedge. They might have
been seen, but weren’t; which was just as well for the little band of
marauders. In some pocket each member of the desperate company carried
a pillow-case. Their coats were buttoned close and no tell-tale expanse
of linen was allowed to show. One by one they bent and squirmed through
the hole in the picket fence and as silently as possible negotiated the
lilac hedge. The latter wasn’t an easy task, for the bushes were close
together and the branches had managed to form a fairly impregnable
barrier. But at last they were all through, Claire Parker bringing up
the rear with his heart in his mouth and his eyes staring anxiously
about in the darkness. Between them and the back of the house,
which, like many old residences thereabouts, consisted of a series
of additions running back from the main house in an ever diminishing
fashion and terminating in a disused granary, was a fair eighty yards
of turf and garden, while beyond the orchard of pear and apple and plum
trees, interspersed with small fruits, was near at hand. They halted in
the deep shadow of a group of shade trees that stood near the hedge and
listened. Not a sound was to be heard from the direction of the house.
The moon wasn’t in sight, although in the east the sky showed light.
Stars peered down at them here and there, but for the most part clouds
covered the sky. At the front of the house yellow light shone out on
the drive.
“All quiet along the Potomac,” whispered Spud. “Let’s hurry before that
moon butts in and spoils things.”
“Better keep in the lower side of the orchard,” advised Hoop. “Then
they can’t see us possibly.”
“Sure. Besides, the big red apples are down there at the corner. The
others aren’t worth fooling with.”
“Come on, then,” said Sandy. “I’ll go ahead. Keep quiet, fellows. Stop
your whispering, Dutch.”
The band crept forward, hugging the deeper gloom of the trees until
they had reached the end of the orchard. Once there, there was a quick
and silent rush for a certain big tree that grew the apples they best
liked. Out came the pillow-cases and hands searched the ground for
fallen fruit. But there was little of that yet, for there had been no
rain or wind storms.
“Who’s going to shake?” asked Spud softly.
“Let Clara do it,” said Hoop. “He’s small and can shin up easily.”
“I――I’d rather not,” said Claire nervously.
“I’ll do it,” Cal volunteered. “You take my bag, Ned.” He had soon
worked his way to the crotch of the tree and from there he walked
out on one of the branches and jarred it by jumping up and down. The
apples fell in a veritable shower, and Spud, who had been looking up,
received one fairly and squarely on the tip of his nose and said “Gee!”
so loudly that he was threatened with awful things if he didn’t keep
quiet.
“Guess you’d yell if a big old apple hit you on the nose,” he muttered
aggrievedly as he filled his pillow-case.
“Shut up, you idiot! Give her another shake, Cal!” said Sandy.
“Wait a minute and I’ll try another branch.” There was a rustling as
Cal moved cautiously about the tree and then another rain of fruit
began. “Anyone filling my bag?” he asked in a whisper. But his question
was never answered, for somebody――it sounded like The Fungus, though he
always maintained that he never opened his mouth――let out a screech of
terror, and panic seized the company. Cal, with the branches adding
to the darkness about him, saw nothing, but the sound of footsteps
pounding the ground told him that he was being deserted by his
comrades. Once someone fell and there was a smothered exclamation of
alarm, and then there reached him the sound of crashing branches as the
boys fled helter-skelter through the lilacs and surmounted the fence as
best they might.
[Illustration: Panic seized the company]
Cal’s first thought was to drop to the ground and race after them, for
he didn’t need to be told that danger was at hand. But by the time he
was ready to swing himself down the others were half-way to the fence
and he realized that safety lay in remaining where he was, hidden
in the dark foliage of the tree. With his heart pounding so that he
feared it would proclaim his whereabouts to the pursuit, he waited
and watched. For a full minute he heard nothing and saw nothing. Then
a sound reached him, a sound that resembled a chuckle, and to his
overwrought ears a most diabolical chuckle at that, and an instant
later there came dimly into sight a ghastly white form that almost
caused him to fall out of the tree from sheer terror.
The moon was almost at the horizon and a ray of light slanted through
an opening in the trees and illumined the form for a brief moment.
It stood almost under the tree and while he watched, his eyes almost
popping from his head and his heart standing still, it grew smaller
and smaller until it was only two or three feet high, and then in an
equally mysterious way lengthened again, fluttered under his gaze for a
moment and then was hidden by the branches.
Cal didn’t believe in ghosts, of course; what sensible boy does? But
there was something frightfully uncanny about that white-robed figure
and the noiseless way in which it came and went. For it had gone,
although Cal didn’t know how far and would have given a good deal to
find out. There were drops of cold perspiration on his forehead, a
queer twitching at his scalp that felt as though his hair was trying
its best to stand on end, and uncomfortable shivers up and down his
spine. He tried to laugh at himself, but the laugh wouldn’t come. He
clutched the branch tightly and waited what seemed an eternity. Once
he was almost certain that he heard the closing of a distant door, but
he didn’t intend to run any risks. And so it was a good five minutes
after the alarm that he finally dropped to the ground, looked fearfully
around him for sight of the dread figure and then bolted as fast as his
legs would take him for the hedge and the fence and safety! There was
no thought of avoiding noise. He crashed into the hedge and through it,
scrambled over the fence――just how he didn’t know――and fled across the
turf to where, under the dining-room window, seven agitated comrades
awaited him. When he saw them he drew up and strove to complete his
arrival more calmly.
“Did you see it?” cried The Fungus.
“What was it?” demanded the others. “Did it catch you?”
“You bet I saw it!” panted Cal. “It came right under the tree and
stood there and got little and then got big again and just disappeared
like――like that!” And he waved his arm.
“Thunder!” whispered Spud hoarsely. “What do you suppose it was?”
“It was a g-ghost,” sniffled Claire.
“Ghost your granny!” ridiculed Sandy. “It was somebody with a sheet
around them, that’s what it was. Anyhow, we’re all in for trouble.”
There was gloomy accordance with this, but the subject of the
mysterious visitant was too interesting to keep away from.
“I looked up and saw it between the trees,” said The Fungus, “and maybe
I wasn’t scared!”
“I guess you were!” said Sandy. “You let out a yell that they could
hear in town.”
“I never! I didn’t open my mouth! I was too blamed scared!”
“Well, someone did,” said Dutch. “And it wasn’t me, for I never saw
anything. I heard someone yell and then everyone ran and I grabbed my
bag and ran too.”
“You saw it, didn’t you, Hoop?”
“Sure! About seven feet high it looked and sort of phosphorescent.”
“I didn’t notice that,” said Cal doubtfully.
“Well, you didn’t see it the way we did, I guess,” said Hoop in a tone
of pride. “You were up in the tree.”
“I cal’late I saw it better than anyone,” responded Cal indignantly.
“Didn’t it come and stand there right under me almost for two or three
minutes?”
“Gee! Did it, honest?” asked Ned. “I didn’t get more than a glimpse of
it. That was all I wanted, though.”
“Well, let’s get upstairs,” said Sandy, “before anyone comes and finds
us here.” They climbed in the window, each casting an anxious glance
toward the orchard as he did so, and then stole noiselessly upstairs.
Strange to say, each boy had brought his bag of apples safely away save
Cal.
“I was too scared to even drop mine,” explained Spud, “and I didn’t
know I had it until I got to the fence.”
“Same here,” said The Fungus. “It’s a good thing we didn’t leave the
pillow-cases over there, though, for they’ve all got ‘West House’
marked on them as plain as daylight.”
“Who has got mine?” asked Cal at this juncture. They had all
congregated in Sandy’s room and were sitting around wherever they
could find space. Spud had lighted the gas and turned it half down. At
Cal’s question each fellow looked at the other while dismay settled
rapidly on every face. “I gave it to you, Ned, you know,” Cal went on
anxiously. Ned shook his head dismally.
“I know,” he answered. “I was going to fill it, but I couldn’t fill
both at once and so I leaned yours against the tree. I――I guess it’s
right there now!”
A deep silence held the group, broken at length by a sigh from Claire.
“I wish I’d never gone,” he murmured miserably.
“I guess we all wish that――now,” said Sandy dryly. “If the Old Maids
find that pillow-case there’ll be the dickens to pay.”
“What does it matter?” asked Dutch gloomily. “Someone saw us swiping
the apples and saw us come over here. That pillow-case will only be
supervacaneous evidence.”
“Don’t use bad words, Dutch,” said Hoop sternly.
“Just the same,” said Sandy, “someone ought to go over and bring that
back, I think.”
There was no enthusiasm displayed. The silence grew embarrassing.
“Whose pillow-case was it?” asked Hoop finally.
“Mine,” answered Cal.
“Well, then you’d better go back and get it. If you don’t you may get
us all into worse trouble than we’re in. We don’t know for sure that
that thing――or person, or whatever it was, really saw us come over here.
But if the Old Maids find that pillow-case under the tree with ‘West
House’ marked on it in indelible ink they’ll have us bad.”
Cal looked as though he scarcely relished the suggestion and Ned came
to his rescue.
“It was my fault,” he said. “I ought to have looked after it,
especially as Cal was shaking down apples for us, and I’ll go back for
it if some of you fellows will go as far as the fence with me.”
“No, I’ll go and get it,” said Cal, rising. “I don’t mind――much.”
“We’ll go together, then,” declared Ned more cheerfully.
So back they went, downstairs and out the dining-room window and across
the grass to the broken palings, keeping very quiet, and not especially
happy, either of them. But when they emerged from the hedge and stood
in the shadows and viewed the scene there was nothing to alarm them and
they gained courage. Besides, the moon was over the horizon now and the
orchard was palely illumined.
“Ghosts don’t come out when it’s as light as this, I guess,” Ned
whispered.
“I cal’late it wasn’t really a ghost,” replied Cal, “but it looked
awfully like one, didn’t it?”
“I didn’t get a real good look at it,” answered Ned. “Come on and let’s
get it over.” They stole along to the edge of the orchard and then
rushed quickly to the protecting darkness of the trees. It was so light
now that they could distinguish objects on the ground, but search as
they might the missing pillow-case was not to be found.
“I left it right here,” whispered Ned, tapping the trunk of the apple
tree with the toe of his sneaker.
“There are a lot of apples here but no pillow-case,” said Cal. “Looks
like someone had dumped the apples out and taken the case away, don’t
it?”
“That’s what’s happened,” said Ned disgustedly. “I guess we might as
well go back. We’ll look on the ground between here and the fence,
though. Someone might have grabbed it up and dropped it later.”
But there was no sign of it and in the end they had to return to the
house without it.
“Well, I dare say it won’t make much difference anyway,” observed Sandy
pessimistically when they reached the Sun Parlor again and reported
their ill-success. “We’re all in for a jolly ragging and something
worse.”
“He can’t suspend us all,” said Spud hopefully.
“Why can’t he?” asked Hoop.
“Too many of us. It would depopulate the school, to say nothing of West
House.”
“That wouldn’t bother Horace,” said The Fungus. “If he wants to send us
home he will do it, Spud.”
“Oh, well, let him then.” Spud reached into his pillow-case and drew
forth a big red apple, which he first polished on his knee and then
dug his teeth into. “Eat, sleep and be merry, for tomorrow we die. I’m
going to bed. Come on, Sandy.”
“Might as well, I guess, although I don’t suppose I’ll be able to sleep
any.”
“Oh, it won’t do any good to stay awake,” replied Spud carelessly as he
took up his bag of apples. The others followed his example, whispering
good nights in the corridor, and sought their rooms. Ned cleaned out
one end of his bottom bureau drawer and emptied the contents of his
pillow-case into it, afterwards restoring the case to its rightful
place.
“You can have half of these, Cal,” he said.
“Thanks, but I cal’late I ain’t got much appetite for apples,” was the
sad reply. “I hate to have to go home just after I’ve got here, Ned.
How long do you think he will send us away for?”
“Maybe a month or two; maybe until after Christmas vacation,” answered
Ned. “It’s a beast of a note, isn’t it? Whose idea was it, anyway, to
go over there tonight?”
“Yours,” said Cal with a wan smile.
“Was it? I dare say. I’m always getting into trouble, hang it all!
Well, I’m going to hit the hay. Sufficient unto the day is the trouble
thereof. Good night.” And Ned tumbled into bed, drew the sheet up to
his ears and was soon fast asleep.
To Cal, however, slumber didn’t come so readily. He was sorely worried.
If Doctor Webster sent him home for the rest of the term it would
mean that he would miss half a year of school and more than likely be
set back just that much in class. Besides which he would have wasted
more of his small capital than he could afford. Eventually sleep came
to him, after a distant clock in the town had struck twelve, and he
passed a restless night disturbed by unpleasant dreams, to awake in the
morning unrested and oppressed by a sense of impending misfortune that
he couldn’t account for until recollection of the preceding night’s
adventure returned to him. The boys gathered in the parlor every
morning before breakfast for prayers. They took turns at reading a
passage from the Bible and then knelt while Mrs. Linn offered earnest
if somewhat rambling invocation. That morning Cal added a little prayer
of his own in which a promise of future good conduct was made in return
for present escape from punishment. Breakfast was an unusually quiet
meal and Mrs. Linn viewed the downcast countenances of her eight boys
with deep concern but failed to elicit from any of them a satisfactory
description of their symptoms. Only Spud ventured a reason.
“Oh, I’m feeling pretty well, thanks,” he said. “I didn’t sleep extra
good, though. Fruit doesn’t agree with me.” And he winked wickedly at
Dutch and received a scowl in response.
It was a surprise to them all to find that things looked much the same
as usual at School House. Mr. Fordyce, known as Fussy, passed them on
the steps, smiled amiably and went on quite as though the world wasn’t
filled with tragedy this morning. They went through their recitations
in a mazed sort of way, momentarily expecting the sword of Damocles to
fall. The worst trial came when they found themselves before Doctor
Webster reciting Latin or Greek. They studied his face anxiously,
striving to surmise in what depth of disgrace he held them. But nothing
was to be learned in that way. The principal treated them the same as
the rest of the class. Sandy decided that their fate had already been
decreed and that the Doctor was only awaiting the end of the session to
acquaint them with it. But the session dragged to its close, twelve
o’clock struck, the corridor bell clanged and school was dismissed; and
still there had come no summons. They scurried back to West House in a
group, discussing the marvel excitedly.
“Either they didn’t see us, after all,” said Hoop, “or else they
haven’t told the Doctor.”
“I’ll bet it _was_ a ghost,” said Spud. “That’s the only sensible
explanation, isn’t it?”
“I knew all along it was,” hazarded Claire triumphantly.
Sandy, however, was not to be cheered. “You wait,” he said gloomily.
“It’ll come this afternoon. Horace is just keeping us guessing on
purpose. I could see by his face that he knew all about it.”
“I’ll bet he doesn’t,” said Spud stoutly. “I’ll bet we won’t hear
anything more about it. Hang those old apples, anyway! I only ate one
last night and it gave me a beast of a tummy-ache. I had to get up and
wander around the room for hours.”
“That was your uneasy conscience,” laughed Ned.
“Well, you had one too, then. What were you doing up?”
“I wasn’t up,” answered Ned.
“Then it was Cal. It looked like you, though.”
“I wasn’t up either,” said Cal.
“Somebody’s lying. I saw one of you roaming around in your room. My
door was open and so was yours and one of you passed the window and
went over in front of Ned’s bureau. I whispered across to you but you
didn’t answer.”
“You dreamed it,” laughed Ned. “I’ll bet you weren’t up yourself; you
just had the nightmare.”
“Oh, you run away and play,” said Spud. “I guess I know when I’m asleep
and when I’m awake. I won’t say I didn’t have the nightmare, though,
but that was afterwards; after my tummy had stopped aching and I’d gone
back to bed.”
“I dreamed most all night, I cal――guess,” said Cal. “Awful dreams, too,
they were.”
“Ghosts?” asked The Fungus.
“N-no, robbers, I think. It seemed that the house was full of them and
I was trying to throw them out of the room as fast as they came in,
only they were too many for me.”
“Did you eat an apple too?” asked Spud.
Dinner was more cheerful than breakfast had been until, in the midst of
it, Mrs. Linn remarked:
“I had a call this morning from Miss Matilda Curtis.”
Everyone stopped eating suddenly and glanced apprehensively about him.
Finally Sandy inquired carelessly:
“Wh-what did she want, Marm?”
“She came about her apples,” answered Mrs. Linn, and paused there
to pour out a cup of tea. Deep and oppressive silence greeted this
intelligence. It was Spud who caused a diversion finally by choking and
having to be thumped on the back by Claire. Mrs. Linn handed the cup of
tea to Hoop to be passed and continued.
“Yes, she wanted to know if I couldn’t use some of them. She says it’s
a wonderful year for apples and they’ve got more than they know what to
do with. I told her I’d be very glad of some for jelly. You boys all
like apple jelly, don’t you?”
“Yes’m!” The reply was loud and enthusiastic. Gloom gave way to
relief and joy and eight appetites reappeared as suddenly as they had
departed.
“Gee,” said Spud afterwards on the porch, “I thought it was all up then
for sure!”
“Me too,” responded Hoop. “That was the narrowest escape I ever did
have. Say, it was an apple that Adam and Eve got into trouble about,
wasn’t it? They must be wicked things. I never did like them much.
Anyone can have mine that wants them.”
But there were no takers.