THE CAMPUS GHOST.
About this time Wellington was filled with strange rumors that were much
discussed in small sitting rooms behind closed doors. It was said, and
this part of the story could be credited as truth, that a woman had been
seen wandering about the campus late at night wringing her hands and
moaning. Some of the Blakely House girls had seen her from their window
one night and had rushed to find the matron, but the strange woman had
disappeared by the time the matron had been summoned. Another night she
had been seen, or rather heard, under the Quadrangle windows. She had
been seen at other places and some of the Irish maids had been filled
with superstitious dread because, absurd as it might seem to sensible
persons, it was reported that the weeping, moaning lady was the ghost of
Miss Walker's sister who had died so many years ago.
"It's an evil omen, Miss," a waitress said to Nance one evening. "In
Ireland ghosts come to foretell bad news. It's no good to the college,
shure, that she's wandering here the nights."
"Don't you worry, Nora. It's just some poor crazy woman," said Nance
sensibly.
"Then where does she be after keeping herself hid in the daytime, Miss?"
"I can't say, but it will come out sooner or later. Ghosts don't exist."
"Shure an' you'll foind a-plenty of 'em in the old country, Miss."
"Well, maybe this is an imported ghost," laughed Molly.
Nevertheless, not a girl in college but felt slightly uneasy about being
out after dark alone, and most trans-campus visitors were careful to
come home early.
One night Molly and Nance had been down to the village to supper with
Judith Blount and Madeleine Petit. They had had a gay time and a jolly
supper and it was quite half past nine before they hurried up the hilly
road to Wellington. The two girls had locked arms and were walking
briskly along talking in low voices. It was a wonderful night. There was
no moon, but the stars were brilliant and Molly was inclined to be
poetical.
"Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art," she began, waving her
free arm with expressive gestures. "Not in lone splendor hung aloft the
night----"
"Molly," hissed Nance, in a frightened whisper, "do be still, look!"
They had turned in at the avenue now, and there, directly over where old
Queen's once stood, was a tall figure draped in black. As the girls came
up, she began to moan in a low voice and wring her hands.
"Oh, Molly, I'm so scared, my knees are giving away. What shall we do?"
"Let's run," whispered Molly, admitting silently that the phantom was a
bit unnerving. "Here, take my hand and let's fly. She's crazy, of
course, and she might do anything to us."
With hands clasped, the two girls flew up the campus. Glancing over her
shoulder, Nance gave a wild cry and pressed along faster.
"She's chasing us," she gasped. "Oh, heavens, she'll kill us!"
[Illustration: Molly Glanced Back. Sure Enough, the Phantom ... was
Running Behind Them--_Page_ 198.]
Molly glanced back. Sure enough, the phantom, keeping well within the
shadow of the elms, was running behind them.
"Oh, Nance, can't you run a little faster?" she cried, now thoroughly
frightened.
Not a soul was on the campus that night. The place was entirely
deserted, and it looked for a few minutes as if they were going to have
a very uncomfortable time, but as they neared the Quadrangle, the figure
slipped away and was lost in the dense shadow of the trees that bordered
the avenue.
"Lay me on a stretcher," gasped Molly, as she dropped on a bench inside
the gates while Nance went to inform the gate-keeper of the strange
presence on the campus.
Immediately the gate-keeper, who was also night watchman, rushed out
with a lantern to chase the phantom, which was a poor way to catch her,
you will admit.
Once in the privacy of their own sitting room, Nance had a real case of
hysterics, laughing and weeping alternately, and Molly felt quite faint
and had to lie on the sofa, while Judy, who had been moodily strumming
her guitar most of the evening, gave them aromatic spirits of ammonia.
"I should think you would have been frightened," she said
sympathetically, "but fancy old Nance's running! It's the first time on
record."
Nance shuddered.
"I don't think you would have stood still under the circumstances," she
answered.
"I don't think I would, but I should like to have known who the ghost
was just the same. Suppose you had stopped still and let her come up to
you, do you think she would?"
"Heavens!" exclaimed the other two in one breath.
"She ran after you because you were running from her," observed the wise
Judy.
"People always give advice about ghosts and robbers and mad dogs," said
Molly. "And they are the ones that run the fastest when the ghosts and
robbers and mad dogs appear."
"Do you think it was a ghost?" asked Judy, ignoring the irritation of
her friends.
"If it had been a ghost it would have caught up with us," answered
Molly, while Nance in the same breath said emphatically:
"I don't believe in ghosts."
Nance and Molly were heroines for several days after this, and during
this time the "ghost" did not reappear on the campus, although a close
watch was kept for her. The Williams sisters insisted on walking down
the avenue every night at half past nine in hopes of seeing a real
phantom, but she was careful to keep herself well out of sight during
this vigilance.
One night some ten days later, just as the town clock tolled midnight,
Molly waked suddenly with a draught of cold air in her face. She sat up
in bed and glanced sleepily through the open door into the sitting room.
"Where did the air come from?" she wondered, and then noticed that
Judy's door was open and slipped softly out of bed. Why she did not
simply close her own door she never could explain, but some hidden
impulse moved her to look into Judy's room. A shaded night lamp turned
quite low cast a soft luminous shadow right across Judy's bed, which was
empty. Molly started violently. Once before they had come into Judy's
room at midnight and found her bed empty. The startling recollection
caused Molly to run to the open window. As she leaned out her hand
touched something rough--a rope.
"A rope ladder!" she whispered to herself, horrified. "Great heavens,
Judy has done for herself now." Just then the rope scraped her knuckles
and she felt a tug at it from below. "Some one is coming up." Molly
looked out.
"Judy," she whispered in a tone filled with reproach. "How could you?"
The voice from above must have frightened the climber, for, with an
excited little gasp, she missed her hold on the rope and fell backward,
where she lay for a moment perfectly still. It was not a very great
fall, but it must have hurt, and instantly Molly climbed to the window
sill and began to make her way slowly down the ladder.
It was not so difficult as she had thought, but she was frightened when
at last she bounded onto the ground, and she was freezing cold in spite
of her knitted slippers and woolen dressing gown.
"Have you hurt yourself badly?" she asked, leaning over Judy, who was
endeavoring to sit up.
"No, only dazed from the fall," whispered Judy. "Go on up, will you, or
we'll both get caught."
"You'd better go first," said Molly, "I'm afraid to leave you down here
alone. Go on, instantly," she added, remembering that she must be stern
since Judy richly deserved all the reproaches she could think of.
Judy began the ascent and pulled herself over the window sill. Then
exhausted, she sat on the floor, holding her throbbing temples in both
hands. That is why she did not see what was presently to happen. Just as
Molly placed her foot on the first rung of the ladder, a firm hand
grasped her arm. Why she did not shriek aloud with all the power of her
lungs she never knew, but she remained perfectly silent while a
voice--and it was Miss Walker's voice--said in her ear:
"You will say nothing about this to-night. I wish you to come to my
office to-morrow morning at ten. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Molly, reverting to her childhood's method of
answering older people. She climbed the ladder in a dazed sort of way.
It was more difficult than climbing down, but at last she scaled the
window sill and jumped into the room. Judy was still sitting on the
floor, holding her temples. Perhaps it had been only five minutes, but
it seemed like a thousand years. However, she felt little sympathy for
Judy, bruised temple or not.
"Get up from there and get to your bed," she whispered. "And I want to
hear from you exactly what you were doing down there and where you got
that ladder."
"The rope ladder belonged to Anne White," Judy answered in a stifled
voice. "I borrowed it to win a wager from Adele. Of course, I don't mean
to blame her, but she teased me into it. It was silly, I know, looking
back on it now."
"What was the bet?"
"She bet that I would be afraid to climb down that ladder at midnight
when the ghost is supposed to walk. I was simply to climb down, touch
the ground and climb back again."
"Idiots, both of you," said Molly furiously.
"I know it, and I am sorry now," said the penitent Judy, "but
fortunately no harm has been done except to my silly head, which needed
a good whacking, anyhow."
"No harm," thought Molly angrily. "I wonder what's going to happen to me
to-morrow. One of us will be expelled, I suppose. Miss Walker is already
down on Judy."
"Thank you for coming down to me, Molly, dearest."
Molly closed the door.
"Judy, I want you to promise me something," she said. "If you get out of
this scrape----"
"But no one knows it but you."
"I have no idea of telling on you, Judy, but things leak out. How do
you know you weren't observed?"
Judy looked startled.
"I want you to promise me to give up this Adele Windsor and her crowd.
She's never done you any good. She's a malicious, dangerous, wicked girl
and if you haven't the sense to see it, I'll just tell you."
This was strong language coming from Molly.
"If you don't, mid-years will certainly see your finish, if you aren't
dropped sooner. You're not studying at all and you are simply acting
outrageously, dyeing your hair and borrowing rope ladders. I'm disgusted
with you, Judy Kean, I am indeed."
"Miss Walker has a grudge against me," announced Judy, in a hot whisper.
"Nonsense," said Molly, and she swept out of the room and crawled into
her bed, very weary and cold and frightened, wondering what the morrow
would bring forth in the way of punishment for her--or was it to be for
Judy?
In the meantime, foolish Judy carefully coiled up the rope ladder and
hid it in the bottom of her trunk.