FROM THE SWAMP
The girls and boys burst into the lodge to find Phrosy on her knees,
hands raised heavenward in supplication.
“Dos ghosts is after me! Ah done knows it! Dis time dey gwine kill me
fo’ sure!”
“Nonsense, Phrosy,” scolded Miss Alling, but even her voice was not so
assured as usual. “That was only a fog horn.”
“An’ what am a fog horn doin’ out in dat swamp, Miss Emma?” quavered the
colored woman. “Ain’t no boats out dere as Ah knows on.
“What do you suppose it was?” gasped Amy, her face white in the lamp
light. “I never heard anything so dreadful!”
“It was de ghosts, Miss Amy,” shrieked Phrosy, as she got lumberingly to
her feet, threw her apron over her head, and dashed into her room,
leaving them staring vacantly after her.
“Shut the door, somebody, do!” cried Jessie, in a voice just above a
whisper. “It will keep out that sound. Listen—there it is again!”
“My advice is not to listen,” said Darry, in a strange, gruff voice. “I
think it would do us all good to eat something.”
His last words were drowned by another shriek from Phrosy, and they all
rushed into her room to find her standing before a window, her eyes
rolling with fright. She was shaking as though she had the palsy.
They ran to the window and followed the direction of her pointing
finger. The sight they witnessed then was enough to test the stoutest
nerves.
Down by the swamp moving stealthily among the trees were shrouded,
shadowy figures, white and vague of outline. While they watched, the
figures disappeared slowly, seeming to dissolve into the shadows beyond
their range of vision.
Phrosy was sobbing hysterically, and even the level-headed young folks
were severely shaken.
“Let’s get out of here—you, too, Phrosy,” said Jessie suddenly. “It
won’t do any good to stand there looking out toward the swamp and
watching for things. We will stay on the other side of the house for the
next hour or so.”
“What do you suppose the answer is, Darry?” Burd asked some time later,
when they had so far pacified and cajoled Phrosy as to induce her to
start preparations for a meal.
Jessie had suggested a fire in the grate with the idea of making the
room more cheerful, and, though the weather was not cool enough to
warrant it, the others had cordially assented to the suggestion.
Now the young folks were gathered about the fire in a cozy semicircle
while Aunt Emma was engaged in “managing” Phrosy in the kitchen.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what it means,” said Darry, in response to
Burd’s question. “Only I am sure it must be some kind of a fake,” he
added. “Just give us a little time, and we will show it up.”
“That is just my idea,” said Fol, eagerly. “What do you say to starting
out to investigate that swamp in earnest early to-morrow morning?”
“A clever idea, Fol,” applauded Burd. “Just what I was about to suggest
myself.”
“Why the look of deep thought, Darry, dear?” asked Amy, who had been
regarding her brother with interest. “Aren’t you enthusiastic about
meeting our friends, the ghosts, face to face?”
Darry turned to her, an absent look in his eyes.
“Why, I can’t to-morrow,” he said hesitantly.
“I have——”
“A date!” finished Burd, adding dryly: “I reckon I could tell where it
is and with whom, too. And all that without the slightest pretensions to
clairvoyance, either.”
Darry shot him an annoyed glance and his eyes once more sought the fire.
His silence was ominous.
Jessie, looking at him, became suddenly conscious that she was rather
angry at Darry.
“If you are going to Gibbonsville, I don’t see why you won’t tell us
about it,” she said, and Darry stirred uncomfortably.
“I just want to run down there for an hour or two,” he finally said,
with a forced lightness that was evident to them all. “I suppose we can
hunt ghosts in the afternoon just as well as in the morning, can’t we?”
“I don’t suppose it is really necessary to hunt them at all,” said Amy,
coolly, adding with the privileged frankness of a sister: “Really,
Darry, this mystery business is getting on our nerves. I think I may say
without any fear of contradiction, that you are annoying your friends,
immensely.”
“Sorry,” said Darry, not at all in the tone that carries conviction; and
there the matter dropped for the time being.
Dinner was served and the young folks gathered eagerly about the table.
That night Phrosy again spent the hours between midnight and dawn
sitting upright in the living room with an oil lamp for company. And in
the morning the girls found that her bag was packed and that she could
not this time be coaxed from her firm determination to leave the lodge
before darkness came again.
In every way things seemed topsy-turvy, and they were torn between
annoyance at Phrosy’s decision and bewilderment at Darry’s insistence
that he possessed an unbreakable engagement in town.
He went away abruptly right after breakfast, seeming in a great hurry to
avoid any inconvenient questioning by them. They watched him go, and in
uncomfortable silence turned back to the house.
“There is Phrosy, hat on and bag in hand,” said Nell, pointing to the
door of the lodge. “We surely are being deserted wholesale this
morning.”
Jessie tried to plead with the black woman, but found her obdurate.
Phrosy would like to accommodate Miss Jessie, she “sho would, but she
wouldn’t take a chance of hearin’ dose ghosts again, no, suh, not fo’
nobody.”
Finally all that was left to them was to bid her good-bye and God-speed,
which they did with a sigh. Burd and Fol volunteered to see her safe
aboard the boat, and so the three girls were left alone.
They sat down on a pile of stones near the lodge and stared gloomily out
toward the lake. Presently Amy giggled.
“As we look now we would make a perfectly stunning group, entitled
‘Gloom,’” she said. “Snap out of it, girls. Somebody say something
cheerful.”
“I don’t feel like it,” confessed Jessie, adding, crossly: “I think
Darry is horrid to act the way he does.”
“He is a pest,” assented Amy, immediately. “The question is, what are we
going to do about it?”
“I’ll tell you,” said Nell, and they looked at her hopefully. “What do
you say, we get Fol to drive us into Gibbonsville and find out what
Darry is up to?”
Amy clapped her hands and applauded the idea, but Jessie looked
doubtful.
“Wouldn’t that be spying?” she asked, but Amy caught her up quickly.
“When anybody acts as queerly as Darry has lately, he deserves to be
spied upon. After all, I guess we have as much right as he has to go to
Gibbonsville if we want to,” she added, with a giggle.
Jessie was still rather doubtful, but the other girls finally overruled
her objections. After all, it would be a good thing if they could find
out something about that mysterious girl in whom Darry seemed to take so
much interest.
When Burd and Fol returned from the boat-landing, reporting that they
had seen Phrosy safely aboard, Nell drew Fol aside and engaged him in
earnest conversation.
Jessie and Amy, watching with interest, saw him shake his head several
times and thought the battle was lost. But after a while Nell approached
them with a triumphant expression and announced that Fol had agreed to
drive them down in the touring car any time they wanted to go.
“Better get started right away,” said Amy, light-heartedly. “Mr. Darry
may find that he hasn’t a crowd of infants to deal with, after all.”
They told Burd of their plans and asked him to go with them, but he
refused with the frank admission that he was afraid of Darry.
“Huh, who’s afraid of him!” sniffed Amy, as she snapped to the door of
the car. “Darry is all bark. He couldn’t bite if he tried.”
Some time later, as they were nearing Gibbonsville, Jessie began to feel
unpleasantly nervous. She was forced to acknowledge to herself that she
was actually afraid to find out what Darry’s mysterious business in this
shabby little village might be. If she had dared, she would have begged
Fol to take them back to Forest Lodge.
As they entered Gibbonsville Amy thought she caught a glimpse of Darry’s
car going down a side street and called out to Fol to follow it.
“I am sure that was his roadster. First street to the left, Fol.”
When they reached the corner, Jessie saw, almost with a sensation of
dismay, that Amy had been right. Directly ahead of them Darry’s car had
been parked by the roadside and Darry himself was descending from it.
Cautiously, Fol backed the touring car around the corner. It would spoil
everything if Darry should see them now. Quickly Amy and Nell alighted,
with Jessie lagging just a little behind them.
They were in time to see Darry’s cordial greeting of the strange girl
who had given Amy the counterfeit bill. He was holding both her hands in
his and she was smiling up at him trustingly.
Amy started forward, but Jessie caught her arm and pulled her back.
“Let’s get away!” she gasped. “I can’t stay here any longer! We—we
shouldn’t have come!”