“I tell you everybody says the old house is haunted, and only last
night I heard awful cries and groans, so I didn’t dare to lie in bed
till I went to sleep.”
Chick uttered these words, and his manner showed that he believed what
he said. Then Aunt Vinnie joined in, for it must be supposed that this
conversation was taking place at home.
“There, boy, that just agrees with what I’ve heerd. Only three nights
ago I lay awake and listened to the most distracting cries you ever
heerd. Seemed jess like a child crying when it began, and then it
sounded like a grown person, to end off with a terrible scream, as if
it were a ghost.”
“How do you know, Aunt Vinnie, that ghosts have such screams?” asked
Joe, who was inclined to discredit the story.
“They say,” spoke up Chick, “that an awful murder was done here once.
A man living here all alone was killed by another man working for him,
and it was supposed that this man died here himself, for he was never
seen afterward.”
“Oh, nonsense, Chick,” said Mrs. Bayne, “you must not believe all you
are told.”
“What everybody says must be so,” persisted Chick. “Ruddy has heard as
much as I have, only he darsn’t tell of it.”
“I had darst to speak of it,” retorted the latter. “And I heard Bill
Wythe say that he had been past here in the night when the house would
be all lighted from cellar to garret and nobody was living here then,
either.”
“He just told you that to frighten you, Ruddy,” said Joe. “I have not
seen anything strange since we came here.”
“I have,” affirmed Ruddy. “Just Thursday night----”
“You didn’t hear that Thursday night,” interrupted Chick.
“I did.”
“You didn’t. You were fast asleep and snoring all the time, ’cos I
prodded you----”
“I weren’t asleep any more’n you were, Chick Nobody. I was just
a-making believe to see what would be done.”
“You lie, Ruddy from Nowhere,” replied Chick. “And if you don’t take
back that name you called me I’ll lick you.”
“You can’t, nobody’s chicken, and you know it. I downed you only
yesterday in the garden, and----”
“I’ll show you how you downed me!” cried the redoubtable Chick,
catching hold of Ruddy.
“Stop, boys!” said Joe. “There is nothing to quarrel over. I wouldn’t
be so foolish.”
“He don’t sass me,” muttered Chick, giving Ruddy a push that sent him
reeling backward.
By this time the latter’s anger was raised, and springing to his feet
he rushed upon the other, when the twain closed in a furious struggle
for the mastery. In vain the older members of the group tried to part
them.
“Oh, dearie me!” cried Aunt Vinnie, “them boys will be the death and
destruction of me. Here, Chick! here, Ruddy! do stop that fighting. Oh,
luddy! they’ll pull their lights and livers right out’n their bodies.
I’m thankful thet I was never a boy!”
Joe was about to interpose again, when she discovered some one coming
up the road at a run.
“It’s Mary,” she declared. “It must be they have let her off from work
this afternoon. How anxious she must be to get home, the way she is
coming.”
“She is crying,” said Mrs. Little. “Why, Mary, what has happened?”
running forward to meet the girl, who was coming toward the house as
fast as she could run, her hair flying in the air and a wild, hunted
look on her face.
“They are after me!” she cried. “Don’t let them get me! Don’t let them
get me! I never did it! I never did it!”
Mary then fell into the outstretched arms of her mother, where she lay
without speaking, but sobbing as if her heart would break.
“What is it, Mary? what is it, my child?” begged the mother. “Tell me
the worst, Mary; if it be ever so bad I’ll not believe it.”
Joe and the others were now beside them, and doing what they could to
soothe the weeping girl.
“Let’s get her into the house,” said Joe.
“Hide me somewhere!” implored Mary. “Don’t let ’em get me. I never
stole the things.”
“Who said you stole?” asked her mother.
“Mrs. Cornhill and the rest. They claim they have been missing things
right along since I have been there, but I never took a thing. I do not
care what they say.”
“Don’t let that worry you, my child. We will not believe it, and they
shall not touch you.”
“They will!” she panted. “The sheriff is after me now. I ran away from
him and the others, but they are following me. I ran all the way up
here.”
“I wish Rob was here,” said Joe, the tears filling her eyes. “But they
shan’t take you away, Mary, if we can help it.”
“You can’t. Let me hide somewhere.”
“You shall,” cried her mother. “Come into the house.”
The others followed the mother and her daughter, not knowing what to do
or say.
“I do not believe they will come way up here after you,” said Joe, more
hopefully than she felt.
“They will. I heard ’Squire Hardy say that he would send every one of
us to the jail or county farm inside of two weeks. And that boy of his
shouted after me, and when I ran he gave chase. He overtook me, but
when he tried to drag me back, or hold me until the sheriff got there,
I pushed him over the bank and ran again.”
“Did--did you kill him?” fairly gasped her mother.
“I don’t know. Where can I hide?”
Confused and excited, the others began to look about for some corner or
place of concealment for the fugitive girl, without stopping to think
if it was right or wrong to do so, when Chick dashed into the house
crying:
“They are coming--right here--’Squire Hardy, Sheriff Stanyan, and two
or three others!”
“We’re too late!” moaned Mrs. Little. “I will fight before they shall
take her away.”
“You must not do that,” said Joe. “Then they would take you, too.
Quick, mother, get Mary into the closet in my room, while I go out and
stop them, so they shall not come into the house.”
By the time the brave Joe had reached the door the officer and his
companions were within a few yards of the house.
At sight of her they stopped, the sheriff saying:
“We want the girl who has been at work to Deacon Cornhill’s. If she
will come out peacefully the rest of you will not be troubled.”
“At this time,” added ’Squire Hardy.
“What do you want of Mary Little?” asked Joe, showing very little fear
as she spoke.
“I am not obliged to answer that, miss. Stand aside and let me come in.”
“This is our house, sir, and I do not know as I am obliged to let you
come in until you have told me your errand.”
Joe was surprised at the calmness with which she spoke, and she stood
at her post undaunted.
“I will show the little vixen who is who!” cried the infuriated
sheriff. “Let me come in, girl, or I will----”
“Don’t do anything rash, Stanyan,” admonished Hardy. “If we manage this
right we can land the whole crowd in jail before night.”