GHOSTS
“Nonsense, Phrosy, what a ridiculous thing to say.”
Miss Alling’s tone was sharp as she pushed past the colored woman into
the house.
“But, Miss Emma, I done tell yo’ Ah knows what Ah’m talkin’ about,”
persisted Phrosy. “’Taint no ’magination. Ah done heered ’em
screechin’.”
“Well, suppose you light a lamp or two,” Miss Alling suggested, adding
dryly: “Ghosts don’t like light, you know. Probably they will wait till
we go to bed to bother us.”
Phrosy groaned and the girls giggled nervously.
“Den I don’t nebber go to bed no mo’e, Miss Emma,” said the colored
woman, while she went about lighting the rooms to a mellow cheerfulness.
“You could take a lamp to bed with you, Phrosy,” suggested Amy.
“Wouldn’t take dose ghosts more’n one second to put out dat light, li’l
missy. An’ den where’d Ah be?” she said darkly.
“What is this we hear about ghosts?” asked a laughing, masculine voice
from the doorway, and the girls turned gleefully to greet the boys.
“Come on in, do,” cried Jessie. “There is one attraction here that we
didn’t bargain on. Phrosy says there are ghosts in the swamp.”
Miss Alling, who had been putting lamps in the other rooms, returned at
that moment and confronted the black woman.
“Still talking ridiculous nonsense, are you, Phrosy?” she said severely.
“Well, let me remind you that ghosts are not good to eat, and we are all
very hungry after a long ride. I hope you followed my instructions and
laid in a good stock of eatables.”
“I done follow yo’ instructions, Miss Emma,” grumbled the black woman,
as she moved toward the small lean-to that served for a kitchen. “I mos’
always tries to do my duty, but Ah’s goin’ away f’om here fust thing in
de mo’nin’ sho’ as mah name am Euphrosyne Black. Ah kin stand mos’
anything, but Ah caint stand fo’ ghosts.”
“Phrosy, what is that you say?” cried Miss Alling, in a tone that
brought the big black woman up short. “You don’t mean to tell me you
actually intend to leave here in the morning?”
“Yas’m, Ah sho’ does,” said Phrosy, firmly. “Ah stayed here las’ night
an’ Ah gives you mah word, Miss Emma, Ah nebber done close mah eyes.”
“Come here to me, Euphrosyne Black,” commanded Miss Alling, in a tone
that proved her determined to get at the root of this nonsense. “What
was it you heard last night, or thought you heard?”
“Ah done hear it wiv mah own ears, Miss Emma,” said Phrosy, her voice
quivering with suppressed emotion and her eyes rolling till there was
scarcely anything visible but the white eyeball. “A screechin’ an’ a
moanin’ an’ a wailin’ like all de ghosts in de world was ober by dat
swamp. It done make mah hair stand clear on end, Miss Emma. Ah’m tellin’
you de truf.”
“What did you do then?” asked Jessie.
“I bet I can tell you what she did,” interrupted Burd, with a grin. “I
bet she just took down one of these guns I see hanging on the walls and
went gunning for the ghosts.”
“Ah would need mo’ dan a gun to kill a ghost, yassuh,” said Phrosy,
earnestly, and once more Miss Alling broke in impatiently.
“I suppose what you actually did was to put your head under the covers
and shiver for the rest of the night,” she said, and Phrosy nodded her
head and rolled her eyes in admiration of this remarkable logic.
“Yas’m, dat’s jest what Ah did. But Ah don’t expects to do it no mo’e,”
she added, with a return to stubbornness. “Sho as de mo’nin’ comes, Ah
done take de fust boat what leaves dis place.”
“Phrosy, I do hope you won’t be so foolish and unkind,” said Miss
Alling, resorting to argument and cajolery. “You know there are no such
things as ghosts. And have you stopped to think how I could get along
without you?”
“Ah’s sho sorry, Miss Emma, but dis place ain’t gwine see me no mo’e
after de mo’nin’. If dat ghost stays, Ah gits.”
Regretful, but obviously determined, Phrosy stalked off into the
kitchen, having enjoyed the advantage of the last word.
The young folks exchanged amused glances, then looked at Aunt Emma. Her
face was a study of conflicting emotions, but the most dominant among
them seemed to be an intense irritation.
“That is what you have to suffer from being partial to black servants,”
she said, in a voice lowered so that it might not reach the ears of
Euphrosyne Black. “They are so superstitious they carry their ghosts
along with them. I don’t know how I will ever manage if Phrosy leaves
me.
“Where is this swamp where the ghosts live?” asked Amy.
“There is a swamp over there beyond the lake,” responded Aunt Emma,
waving her hand in an easterly direction. “It is a miserable, dreary
place and is avoided by every one in the locality. I have heard that it
can be crossed if one knows how to find the solid ground, but unless my
life depended upon it I wouldn’t care to try it myself.”
“Dreary, you say, and deserted,” murmured Amy, adding with an
irrepressible chuckle: “Just the ideal spot for a ghost. I think I will
have to visit this swamp before long.”
“I think you had better be very careful how you visit in that
neighborhood,” retorted Miss Alling, briskly. “More than one person has
gone to the swamp never to return.”
“Oh, how thrilling,” cried Amy. “That explains Phrosy’s ghosts, doesn’t
it? Maybe she didn’t imagine those noises after all.”
“Good gracious, Amy, I wish you would stop,” said Nell, with a shiver.
“I declare, I feel creepy already.”
“No wonder—listening to Phrosy’s wild stories,” said Miss Alling.
“Suppose we change the subject. For instance, how do you like my lodge,
now that you are here?”
The change of subject was a fortunate one, and it was not long before
Phrosy’s ghosts had been forgotten in the delight of inspecting the cozy
interior of the lodge.
There was a combination living room and dining room opening off from the
kitchen, and it was into this room that Phrosy had ushered them. By the
light of the oil lamps they could make out the picturesque roughness of
the raftered ceiling and side walls.
The walls were almost completely covered by handsome animal skins and
rifles, and at one spot over the open fireplace depended the huge
antlered head of a deer.
Woven rag rugs covered the rough boards of the floor, and at each side
of the fireplace was a wooden settle. A large table surrounded by
cushioned, comfortable chairs completed the furnishings of the room.
“All the comforts of home,” said Darry, and grinned at Aunt Emma. “My, I
am glad you invited us.”
“You don’t live here,” retorted the lady. “The lodge isn’t big enough to
accommodate all of you, so I have commandeered a small cabin just back
of us. It has only two rooms, but as you boys will probably spend most
of your time here I guess the cabin will be large enough for you.”
“They want to get rid of us! It is a put-up job!” complained Burd.
“Imagine them giving us a two-room cabin and keeping the lodge all to
themselves.”
“It is the day of women,” sighed Darry. “We really should be thankful
that they let us live at all.”
Accompanied by the complaints of the boys and the flickering light of
lanterns the girls inspected the rest of their quarters.
There were three bedrooms and a little closet-like affair that was
Phrosy’s room. The rooms were a fair size and contained comfortable
beds, despite the fact that the walls and floors, like those of the
living room, were rough and unplastered.
The girls noticed with pleasure—and a feeling of relief which they would
not acknowledge even to each other—that the two rooms assigned to them
by Miss Alling were connected by a door.
“One of us will have to sleep alone,” Nell said in a low tone, as they
followed Aunt Emma back to the living room. “I don’t mind telling you
that I would rather not.”
“Why, Nell, don’t tell me Phrosy’s ghosts have got you scared,” laughed
Amy. “Didn’t you hear Aunt Emma say there weren’t no sech animal?”
However given to superstition Phrosy might be, there could be no
discount on her ability as a cook. The dinner she prepared that night
tasted like ambrosia and nectar to the famished young folks. It was with
evident reluctance that the boys finally left the table and declared
their intention of seeking their own quarters.
Aunt Emma and Phrosy escorted them to the cabin while the girls stood in
the doorway and waved them good-bye.
“Oh,” said Jessie, turning away and yawning wearily, “I never was so
tired in my life.”
“There is only one known remedy for that,” commented Amy. “I am glad
those beds are comfortable.”
Half an hour later all was quiet at Forest Lodge. Even Phrosy had
consented to put out her light and go to sleep.
Nothing to break that serene stillness save the mysterious night sounds
of the forest. Hours passed with still nothing to break that silence.
Then——
Jessie sat up in bed, her eyes straining wide to pierce the darkness,
her heart hammering. What was it that had waked her? Some sound? Her
hand flew to her throat to press back the startled cry.
From out of the depths of the woodland it came again—a long, low,
agonized moan, like the cry of a soul in torment.