"_And the darker the room grew, the more it seemed alive._"
In Grandmother's room there were tall south windows reaching nearly to
the ceiling. It must have been bright with sunshine in midday, but it
was nearly evening now and the lower halves of the windows were closed
with white shutters, which gave the room a very cosy appearance. In the
white marble fireplace a cheerful fire was burning, and above it on the
mantel was a large stuffed owl as white as the marble on which he was
perched. He seemed quite alive and very wise, his great yellow eyes
shining in the firelight. Hortense glanced at him now and then, and
always his bright eyes seemed fixed upon her.
"I believe he could talk if he would," thought Hortense. "Sometime when
we're alone, I'll ask him if he can't."
"Now, if you'll call your grandfather, we'll have tea," said
Grandmother. "He's in his library in the next room."
Hortense ran to do as she was told. The library was walled with books,
thousands of them, and near a window Grandfather sat at a big desk,
busily writing. He looked up when Hortense entered, and laid down his
pen to take her on his knee.
Grandfather had white hair, and bushy white eyebrows over piercing dark
eyes. Hortense had always thought him very handsome, particularly when
he walked, for he was tall and very straight. She thought he must look
like a Sultan or Indian Rajah, such as is told of in the _Arabian
Nights_, for his skin was dark, and when he told her stories of his
youth and his wanderings about the earth, she wondered if he weren't
really some foreign prince merely pretending to be her grandfather. He
had been in many strange places in India, Africa, and the South Seas,
and when he chose, he could tell wonderful stories of his adventures.
While Grandfather held her on his lap, Hortense gazed at a strange
bronze figure which stood on a stone pedestal beside his desk. It was a
bronze image such as Hortense had seen pictured in books--some sort of
an idol, she thought. The figure sat cross-legged like a tailor and in
one hand held what seemed to be a bronze water lily. Hortense had never
seen an image or statue that seemed so calm, as though thinking deep
thoughts which it would never trouble to express.
"What a funny little man," said Hortense.
Grandfather looked gravely at the bronze figure.
"That is an image of Buddha, the Indian god," he said. "Perhaps after
dinner I'll tell you a story about him."
He lifted Hortense from his knee and, taking her by the hand, went into
Grandmother's room.
Mary had brought in the tea wagon, which Hortense thought looked like a
dwarf. Indeed, all the furniture seemed curiously alive, as though it
could talk if it would. In the corner was a lowboy. With the firelight
falling on its polished surface and on the bright brass handles to its
drawers, it seemed to make a fat smiling face, as of a good-humored
boy.
"What a jolly face," Hortense thought. "He'd be good fun to play with,
I'm sure."
She ate her toast and cake while Grandfather and Grandmother talked
together in the twilight. And the darker the room grew, the more it
seemed alive.
"I believe all these things are talking," said Hortense to herself.
"Now, if I could only hear! Perhaps if I had an ear trumpet or
something----"
As she was thinking thus, a great tortoise-shell cat walked calmly in,
seated himself on the hearth-rug, and stared into the fire. It seemed
to Hortense that the flredogs fairly leaped out at him, but the cat
only gazed placidly at them.
"He knows they can't get at him," thought Hortense, "and he's saying
something to make them mad."
Grandfather and Grandmother were talking in a low tone, and Hortense
suddenly found herself listening to them with interest.
"Uncle Jonah says it's a 'ha'nt,'" Grandfather was saying with a smile.
"He and Esmerelda are afraid and want me to fix up the rooms over the
stable."
"What nonsense!" Grandmother exclaimed sharply.
"But there is something odd about the house, you know," said
Grandfather.
"I believe that you think it's a ghost yourself, Keith," said
Grandmother, looking keenly at him.
"I've always wanted to see a ghost," admitted Grandfather, "but I've
had no luck. Why shouldn't there be ghosts? All simple peoples believe
in them."
"Remember Hortense," Grandmother said in a low voice.
"To be sure," Grandfather answered, looking quickly at Hortense.
Hortense heard with all her ears, but her eyes were upon the cat. The
cat sat with a smile on his face and one ear cocked. Once he looked at
Grandfather and laughed, noiselessly.
"The cat understands every word!" Hortense said to herself with
conviction. She began to be a little afraid of the cat, for she felt
that everything in the room disliked him. The lowboy no longer smiled
but looked rather solemn and foolish. The chairs stood stiffly, as
though offended at his presence. The white owl glared fiercely with his
yellow eyes, and the firedogs fairly snapped their teeth.
But the cat did not mind. He lay on the hearthrug and grinned at them
all. Then he rolled over on his back, waved his paws in the air, and
whipped his long tail.
"He's laughing at them!" said Hortense to herself. "And he knows all
about the 'ha'nt,' whatever that is!"
Mary came to remove the tea wagon, which Hortense decided was really
good at heart but surly and tart of temper because of his deformity.
The brass teakettle looked to be good-tempered but unreliable.
"There's something catlike about a teakettle," Hortense reflected. "It
likes to sit in a warm place and purr. And it likes any one who will
give it what it wants. Its love is cupboard love."
"Dinner isn't until seven," said Grandmother, "so perhaps you'd like to
go to the kitchen and see Esmerelda, the cook, Uncle Jonah's wife. If
you are nice to her, it will mean cookies and all sorts of good
things."
Hortense thought, "If I'm nice to Esmerelda just to get cookies, I'll
be no better than the cat and the teakettle; so I hope I can like her
for herself." Nevertheless, it would be nice to have cookies, too.
"Isn't this an awfully big house?" said Hortense to Mary as they went
down a long dark passage.
"Much too big," said Mary. "I spend my days cleaning rooms that are
never used. There's the whole third floor of bedrooms, not one of which
has been slept in for years. Then there are the parlors, and many
closets full of things that have to be aired, and sunned, and kept from
moths."
"May I go with you, Mary, when you clean?" Hortense asked. "I'll help
if I can."
"Sure you may," said Mary kindly. "I'll be glad to have you. You'll be
company. Some of those dark closets, and the bedrooms with sheeted
chairs and things give me the creeps. An old house and old unused rooms
are eerie-like. Sometimes I can almost hear whispers, and sighs, and
things talking."
"I know," said Hortense. "Everything talks--chairs, and tables, and
bureaus, and everything. Only I can never hear just what it is they
say. Do you think they move sometimes at night?"
"I'll never look to see," said Mary piously. "At night I stay in my own
little house, where everything is quiet and homelike and there are no
queer things about."
Hortense shivered delightfully. Perhaps she would see and hear the
queer things, and even see the "ha'nt" of which Grandfather had spoken.
The kitchen was a large comfortable place. A bright fire was burning in
the range. Shining pans hung on the wall, and Aunt Esmerelda, large,
fat, and friendly, with a white handkerchief tied over her head, moved
slowly among them.
Aunt Esmerelda put her hands on her hips and looked down at Hortense.
"Yo's the spittin' image of yo' ma, honey," said Aunt Esmerelda. "Does
yo' like ginger cookies?"
[Illustration: "Yo's the spittin' image of yo' ma, honey," said Aunt
Esmerelda.]
Hortense doted on ginger cookies.
"De's de jar," said Aunt Esmerelda, pointing to a big crock on the
pantry shelf. "Whenevah yo's hongry, jes' yo' he'p yo'se'f."
Hortense sat on a chair in the corner, out of the way, and watched Aunt
Esmerelda cook.
"What was the thing you and Uncle Jonah heard?" she asked at last
abruptly.
"Wha's dat?" Aunt Esmerelda said, dropping a saucepan with a clatter.
"Who tole you 'bout dat?"
"I heard Grandpa talking to Grandma about it," said Hortense.
"It wan't nothin'?" said Esmerelda uneasily. "Don' yo' go 'citin'
yo'se'f 'bout dat. Jes' foolishness."
"But if there is a 'ha'nt' in the house, I want to see it," Hortense
persisted.
Aunt Esmerelda stared at her with big eyes.
"Who all said anythin' 'bout dis yere ha'nt? I ain't never heard of no
ha'nt."
"When you hear it again, please wake me up if I'm asleep," said
Hortense.
"Heavens, I don' get outa' mah bed w'en I hears nothin'," said Aunt
Esmerelda. "Not by no means. E'n if yo' hears anythin', jes' yo' shut
yo' eahs and pull the kivers ovah yo' head. Den dey don' git yo'."
But Hortense felt quite brave by the bright kitchen fire. She sat very
quietly and watched Aunt Esmerelda at work. The kitchen was filled with
bright friendly things--shining pans and spoons, a squat, fat milk jug
with a smiling face, a rolling pin that looked very stupid, an egg
beater that surely must get as dizzy as a whirling dervish turning
round and round very fast--probably quite a scatterbrain, Hortense
thought.
"What is that, Aunt Esmerelda?" Hortense asked, pointing to a bright
rounded utensil hanging above the kitchen table.
Aunt Esmerelda looked.
"Dat's a grater, chile. I grates cheese an' potatoes an' cabbage an'
things wid dat."
She took down the grater.
"On dis side it grates things small and on dis side big."
She hung it in its place again.
"It looks wicked to me," said Hortense. "I shouldn't like to meet it
wandering around the house at night."
"Laws, chile, how yo' talks," Aunt Esmerelda exclaimed startled. "Yo'
gives me de fidgets. Wheh yo' git ideas like dat?"
"Things look that way," said Hortense. "Some look friendly and some
unfriendly. There's the cat and the teakettle. They aren't friendly.
They say all sorts of sly things. Sometime I'm going to hear what they
are. The grater would run after you and scrape you on his sharp sides
if he could."
Aunt Esmerelda shook her head uneasily. From time to time she stared at
Hortense.
"Yo's a curyus chile," she muttered. "I don' know what yo' ma means
a-bringin' yo' up disaway, scaihin' po' ole Aunt Esmerelda. Lan's
sakes, if I ain't done forgit de pertatahs! An' dey's all in de
stoh'room!"
"Where's that?" Hortense asked much interested.
"In de basement," said Aunt Esmerelda, "an' it's powahful dark down
deh."
"I'll go with you," said Hortense eagerly. "I'd like to see it."
Aunt Esmerelda lighted a candle and, taking a large pan, opened the
door leading to the basement.
It was a large basement, and the candle was not sufficient to light its
more remote corners. They passed a huge dark furnace with its arms
stretching out on all sides like a spider's legs. In front of it was a
coal bin, large and black.
Aunt Esmerelda opened the door of the storeroom. Within were barrels
and boxes, and hanging shelves laden with row upon row of preserves in
jars and regiments of jelly glasses, each with its paper top and its
white label.
Aunt Esmerelda filled her pan with potatoes from the barrel and led the
way from the storeroom. Closing the door, she led the way back
upstairs.
A sudden noise of something falling and of little scurrying feet led
her to stop abruptly. Hortense drew close to her. Aunt Esmerelda was
shaking, and by the light of the candle Hortense could see the whites
of her eyes gleaming as she looked all about her.
They started again for the cellar stairs. When they had reached the
furnace, a sudden gust of wind blew out the candle. In a far corner of
the cellar something rattled.
Aunt Esmerelda started to run, and Hortense ran after her. A faint
light from the kitchen shone on the head of the cellar stairs. Aunt
Esmerelda hurried up the stairs, panting, with Hortense at her heels.
At the top Aunt Esmerelda slammed and bolted the door; then she sank
into a chair and mopped her perspiring face.
"Do you think it was the 'ha'nt'?" Hortense asked much excited.
"Don' speak to me 'bout no ha'nt!" exclaimed Aunt Esmerelda angrily.
"Yo' sho' scaihs me. Run along and git ready fo' dinnah."
Though Hortense lingered, Aunt Esmerelda would not say another word,
and finally Hortense went to change her dress.