CHAPTER II The Ghost Mansion
Unable to understand what had caused the workmen to act as they had, andsensing the possibility of a further fright to the horses, Arden and herchums were about to wheel and ride away. But Dick called to them:
"Steady; I think it will be all right. These men don't know what they'redoing. They are just frightened."
"At what?" asked Arden.
"That's what I'm going to try to discover," said the young groom. Then,shouting to the running Negroes, he inquired:
"What's the matter?"
"Don't ask us, boss," answered one, dubiously shaking his head. "We sho'am finished on dat job! I never could abide t' wuk in haunted houses!"
"Dat goes fo' me, too!" echoed the other. "I don't laik ghosts!"
Then they both ran on, disappearing into the woods.
"Ghosts!" laughed Terry after a moment of silence. "They're just what weneed to brighten up our lives."
"Let's go in the old mansion and look around," proposed Arden.
"Have we time?" suggested Sim.
They glanced at Dick for his verdict.
"We have about half an hour," he said, looking at his watch. "Go on in ifyou want to."
When they urged their horses through the overgrown tangle that had oncebeen a front yard and came to a stop near the big broad porch, thepillars of which were tilting, Dick helped the three girls to dismount.Then, leading the horses to a tree with conveniently low branches, helooped the reins so the animals would not stray. Horses in the East arenot trained like their Western cousins, to stand if the reins are left todangle on the ground.
The girls held back a little before going up the four steps at theentrance of the house. It was a combination Georgian-Colonial style,squarely built, with a beautiful fanlight still intact over the centerdoor.
"It is spooky, isn't it?" asked Sim with a pleased little shiver.
"Did you ever see such a sorrowful house, though?" Arden wanted to know.
"What do you mean, sorrowful? To me it seems very proud and stern," Terrydecided.
"I don't think so. Look at the way the door hangs on its hinges. Ready tofall off if it had a good push. And what lovely hinges they are, too.Hand forged, I'll bet," Arden said, going a little closer to inspect.
Sim, quickly sympathetic, fell under the spell of Arden's imagining."Poor old place," she murmured, "I don't blame it for haunting theworkmen. I suppose this house has been the scene of many an excitingadventure. Do you know anything about it, Dick?" Sim turned to the boy,who stood aside waiting for them to enter.
He hesitated a moment before replying and then seemed reluctant to givemuch information.
"Yes," he said slowly, "I know a little bit about it. You see this placeonce belonged to my ancestors." He looked down at his polished boots andappeared rather bashful.
"Really?" asked Sim. "Tell us, please," and she smiled disarmingly athim.
Arden and Terry waited hopefully for Dick to continue.
"Suppose we go in and I'll show you the place," the young groomsuggested.
"How about the ghosts?" Terry asked.
"These ghosts aren't the common graveyard variety--that is, if thestories are true. They all seem to be spirits of soldiers, farmers, andsometimes there's the ghost of a lovely girl," Dick went on. "You seethis place was built during the Revolution. The Continental army 'dug in'at Jockey Hollow, here, for the winter of 1779."
Terry, growing bolder, preceded the others into the hall. Rooms very muchdilapidated were on either side. One room, probably a parlor, wasdominated by an enormous fireplace with a faded picture above it.
"Oh, girls, come here!" Terry called. "Look at this! Is this your girlghost, Dick?"
They hurried to Terry as she stood before the painting. Terry was insharp contrast to the charming scene above. Feet planted a little apart,hands clasped behind her back, tall as she was, her head just came to theold, high mantel. The girl in the picture was also in riding clothes, butfar different from Terry's. They looked like a tableau: "The Past andPresent."
Terry wore smart riding trousers and a flaring coat. Her sandy hair wasjust showing beneath a well blocked hat.
The girl in the picture was dark-haired and tall. Her right arm wasthrust through the reins of a black horse. The panniers of her dark-greenriding costume seemed to melt into the leafy background of the painting.
The picture girl was staring straight at Terry and perhaps it was notentirely imagination that disclosed something akin in the two girls.
"What a charming picture you make!" Arden remarked, and then, as she sawthat Terry was perhaps too delighted at the compliment, she added: "Inthis dim light we can't see the freckles."
Terry turned and, like a small boy, stuck a pink tongue out at Arden.
Dick, in the meanwhile, was looking thoughtfully at the girls. Sim wentto him.
"Dick," she said softly, "I can see that you somehow belong here. Won'tyou tell us about it? We've been riding with you several seasons now, andwe won't repeat a thing if you don't want us to."
"Please," begged Arden. "You look as sad as this house, Dick. What's thematter?"
"This place," Dick began with an including gesture, "once belonged in mygrandmother's family. But the deed, or some necessary paper, has beenlost, and now the state claims the estate, and the old house is to betorn down to make way for a road. The march of progress, you know, mustnot be halted."
"But has it no historic interest?" Terry asked. "Couldn't it be preservedas a shrine of some sort? I mean the house, for you said Jockey Hollow isgoing to be a park."
"I'm afraid not," continued Dick. "I guess it's about the only mansionthat George Washington never visited. Besides, the original house hasbeen added to so many times that now it is a combination of three or fourperiods."
"What would your grandmother do with this property if she could find thedeed?" asked Terry practically.
"Sell it," answered Dick without any hesitation. "At least it would bringenough money for me to give up this stable job that any half-wit couldhold and let me finish at college. Then Betty, she's my sister, could goto New York and keep on with her work in costume design and interiordecoration. She's really talented," he added earnestly.
"If this home were mine I should hate to part with it," Arden announced."I don't see how your grandmother can bear to give it up. Isn't there achance that she could keep it, Dick?"
"Perhaps, if we could prove title. But even then we need the money itssale would bring. Granny ought to have little comforts, though reallyshe's been swell about it all. Never complains. And the stories sheknows!"
"What does she say about the ghosts?" Sim asked.
"Just laughs. She says she'd sleep here on All Souls' Eve or any otherparticularly ghostly time. I guess she likes ghosts."
"I'd love to meet her sometime. Do you think we might? I wish we couldhelp some way," said Arden thoughtfully.
"I'll ask her. I'm sure she would. She leads rather a lonely life," Dickanswered. "And she loves young folks."
"Say, Dick, who is this girl in the picture? Isn't it too valuable apainting to be left here?" Terry was studying the painting.
"It's not worth much. It was probably painted by one of those travelingartists who could do family portraits or barns, whichever might bewanted. Granny has left a few things in here to sort of claim the place,though the claim isn't recognized. And we live now in a little housebehind this one. It used to be the servants' quarters," Dick finishedbitterly.
The little group fell silent. The girls had stumbled, it seemed, uponsomething very private, and they felt embarrassed at learning ofsomeone's misfortune.
"Like finding somebody crying when they thought they were alone," Terrylater remarked.
No one knew what to say. Dick walked to a window that reached almost fromthe ceiling to the floor, and stood looking out. Terry, always the firstto move, stepped over the fender around the fireplace and peered
up thechimney. For no reason except to break the trying silence, as far as sheknew.
Barely perceptible at first, gradually a sound impressed itself on thegirls. Like footsteps on a stair, far away but coming nearer, the soundapproached.
Terry pulled back her head from the dark corner of the fireplace andlooked at her friends. They stood like statues staring back at eachother, while Dick turned slowly from the window.
"What's that?" Sim asked, cocking her head like a young puppy as if tohear better.
"Sounds like someone creeping down the stairs," Arden ventured.
"Perhaps it's one of the workmen coming back," suggested Terry.
At this Dick shook his head. "No," he said. "I happen to know that thosetwo men we saw a while ago were the only ones on the job today, and theyleft in a hurry," he finished, grinning.
"Well, then, there is only one explanation left." Arden was glowing withexcitement. "Ghosts!"
"Oh, gosh!" exclaimed Sim. "Let's go! I like to read about ghosts but Idon't like to meet 'em. Come on!" Without waiting for the others, Sim ranfrom the room.
"Wait, Sim, wait!" Terry called. And when Sim did not return Terry added:"Arden, we'll have to go too! I don't like it, either." Then she turnedtraitor to the cause and ran after Sim.
There was nothing left, then, for Arden and Dick to do but follow. ButArden lingered a moment in the hall on her way out and listened.
The measured sound above was slowly coming closer. Heavy steps, as thoughthe feet making the noise were encased in thick boots.
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
Above the first landing all was in darkness, and even Arden, ghost-lovingas she was, decided to wait no longer to find out what might be comingdown the long stairs.
With a last fearful look she also fled, calling to Dick for protectionand stumbling over a loose floor board in her haste.