I didn't find an opportunity to escape unseen until late in the afternoon, when I went, ostensibly, for a solitary row on the lake.

I landed and came by a circuitous route to the haunted house. The calm security of sunshine, of course, prevented any shivers of anticipation such as I had experienced the night before. On passing one of the windows on my way to the front entrance, I glanced in, stopped in sheer fright, stooped and backed to the next window, which was screened by a labyrinth of vines through which I peered. I am sure I lost my Bloom of Youth complexion for a few moments. I babbled aimlessly to myself and then managed to pull together and beat it to the lake with as much speed as my farmer friend had shown in his retreat. I made the boat and the hotel in double quick time.



I felt no misgivings now as to the promise of a sensation that night, and that sustaining thought was all that propped my flagging spirits throughout the day, but I resolved to keep my little party at safe distance from the house.

"Say we keep our nocturnal noctambulation under our hats," proposed Rob.

When this proposition was translated to Silvia, she entirely approved, so, committing Diogenes to the Polydores' Providence, we left the hotel at half past eleven for a row on the lake by moonlight.

When we descended the slope leading to the House of Mystery, I cautioned silence and a "safety-first" distance.

"Ghosts are easily vanished," I informed them. "They don't seek limelight, and I want you to be sure to see this one."

As we came to the untrodden undergrowth we heard a weird, wailing sound that would have curdled my blood had I not glanced in the window that afternoon and so, in a measure, been prepared for this—or anything.

"Look!" whispered Beth. "The arm!"

Silvia looked at the roof window and with a stifled shriek of terror turned and fled up the hill, Rob chivalrously pursuing her.

Beth was pale, but game.

"What can it be, Lucien?" she whispered. "Do we dare go in to see?"

"I wouldn't, Beth," I vetoed quickly. "Maybe some lunatic or half-witted person has taken up abode here."

"Lucien!" called Rob peremptorily.

I turned quickly. He was at the top of the hill, half supporting Silvia. I ran toward them, followed by Beth.

"It isn't a ghost, of course, Silvia," I said soothingly, and then repeated my supposition about the lunatic.

"Of course I don't believe in ghosts," said Silvia shudderingly, "but it's an awful place and those sounds are like those I have heard in nightmares."

"We'll hurry back to the hotel and forget all about it," I urged.

I rowed the boat and Silvia sat opposite me. Beth and Rob were in the stern and I had to listen to their conversation.

"Of course I felt a little creepy," she admitted, "but then I like to feel that way, and I wasn't afraid."

"No, of course, you wouldn't be," he replied somewhat ironically. "You're the new woman type."

"No, I am not," she denied. "I wish I were. Silvia's really the strong-minded type."

"She didn't act the part when she saw the ghost," he retorted.

"It's very unusual for her nerves to give way. Silvia's quite a surprise to me this summer, but I think those funny Polydores have upset her more than Lucien realizes."

I wondered if she were right, and once again murderous wishes toward the Polydores entered my brain, and I made renewed vows about disposing of them on our return home.

One thing, however, had been accomplished by our expedition. Silvia was more lenient in her judgment on my indulgences of the preceding night.

By the time we pulled in at the landing, Silvia had recovered her equilibrium.

"Lucien, what the devil do you suppose was in that house?" asked Rob, when we were putting up the boat.

"Loons and things," I allowed.

"But what was that white arm?"

"Some fake thing the village wag has put up to scare the natives."

Next morning's stage brought some new arrivals, and among them were two college students who at once were claimed by Beth. She played tennis with one and later went rowing with the other. Rob smoked and sulked, apart.

My farmer friend had been garrulous and rumors of the ghost and the haunted house had come to the ears of the hotel inmates, thereby causing a pleasurable stir of excitement. A number of them announced their intention of visiting the place. They asked me to be their guide, but I refused.

"It was interesting," I said, "but I think it would be a bore to see the same ghost twice."

"I am sure I don't care to go again," was Silvia's emphatic reply when asked to be one of the party.

"Ghosts are scientifically admitted and explained," growled Rob, "so I don't see anything to be excited about."

Beth accepted the offer of escort of one of the students, so Silvia, Rob, and I remained at home. The night was quite cool, and we played cards in our room. When the party returned, Beth joined us. She looked rather out of sorts.

"Oh, yes," she replied in answer to Silvia's eager inquiry. "We saw the ghost. I don't know whether it was the same little old last night's ghost or a new one. He showed more of himself this time though. He had two arms and a veiled head out of the window. As soon as our crowd glimpsed it, they all fled quicker than we did last night. Those two students fell all over each other and left me in the lurch."

"What could you expect," asked Rob, "from such ladylike things? They ought to be kept in the confines of the croquet ground. If they are a fair specimen of the kind you have met, no wonder you—"



He stopped abruptly.

"No wonder what?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing," he replied glumly.

When I came down to breakfast the next morning, the landlady in tears waylaid me.

"Oh, Mr. Wade," she began in trouble-telling tone, "this affair about the ghost is going to hurt my business. Some of those folks say they are going home, and they will tell others and—"

"I'll fix the ghost story. Just leave it to me!" I assured her optimistically, as we went into the dining-room.

There were only enough guests to fill one long table, and every one was excitedly dissecting the ghost.

I took my seat and also the floor.

"I hate to dispel your illusions," I said cheerfully, "but the fact is, I made a daylight investigation of the haunted house. First I looked in the window and I saw—"

"Oh, what did you see?" chorused a dozen or more expectant voices.

"A lot of—mice."

"Oh!" came in disappointed and skeptical tones.

"But, the ghost, Mr. Wade?"

"Yes! The arms and the head?"

"A fake figure put up by some practical joker for the purpose of frightening timid people and encouraging the credulous. I didn't want to spoil your little picnic, so I kept still."

"Those sounds, Lucien!" reminded Silvia.

"Were from a cat chorus. They were prowling about the house."

"You're sure some lawyer, Mr. Wade," doubtfully complimented my grateful landlady, as we went out of the room after breakfast.

"Lucien," asked Rob sotto voce, joining me on the veranda, "why don't the cats you speak of catch that lot of mice?"

Fortunately Beth came up to us, and I didn't have to explain.

"Oh!" she said with a shudder. "I'll never go near that awful place! I'd rather see a perfectly good ghost, or a loon, or a lunatic any day than a mouse."

"You're surely not afraid of a mouse!" exclaimed Rob.

"Why not?" she asked coolly as she walked on.

"I told you she was feminine," I reminded him.

He shook his head.

"I can't understand," he remarked, "why a girl who is afraid of mice should be—"

"You don't understand anything about women," I interrupted.

"You're right, Lucien. I don't, but your sister is surely the greatest enigma of them all."

I rented the stone fence farmer's "autoo" and took Silvia and Diogenes to a neighboring town that afternoon. We didn't get back to the hotel until dinner time.

"What have you been up to all day, Rob?" I asked.

"Numerous things. For one, I strolled down to the haunted house."

"What did you see?" cried the women.

"I saw four—"

"Ghosts?" asked Beth.

I shot him a warning glance.

"Young tomcats playing tag with the mice."

I corralled Rob outside after dinner.

"For Heaven's sake!" I implored. "Don't disturb Silvia's peace of mind. Did you go inside?"

"No; I was sorely tempted to, but refrained out of deference to the evident wishes of my host, but really, Lucien, we should—"

"I have only ten more days off, Rob. Don't make any unpleasant suggestions."

"I won't," he said promptly.



CHAPTER X

In Which We Make Some Discoveries

Diogenes, who, for a Polydore, had been quite placid since Ptolemy's departure, caused a commotion by disappearing the next morning. As he was possessed of a deep desire to go in the lake and get a little snake, he had been, when not under strict surveillance, tied to a tree with enough leeway in the length of rope to allow him to play comfortably.

By some means he had managed to work himself loose from the rope and had evidently followed Ptolemy's example. I suggested calling up Huldah and asking if he had arrived yet, but I met with such chilling glances from Silvia and Beth that I got busy and organized searching parties, who reluctantly and lukewarmly engaged in the pursuit. Rob and I took the shore. After we had walked some little distance, we met a woman and stopped for inquiry. She said she had seen a child of about two years, clad in a blue and white striped dress and a big hat, going over the hill in company with a boy of about eight.

"Are you going on to the hotel?" I asked.

On her replying that she was, I told her to inform them that she had met me and that the lost child was located.

Rob and I then kept on over the hill, and when we neared the haunted house, we heard hair-raising sounds.

"If I hadn't been here before," remarked Rob, "I should think that Sitting Bull had been reincarnated and was reviving the warrior war whoops."

We paused on the threshold. A human windmill of whirling legs and arms—Polydore legs and arms—flashed before our eyes.

"Stop!" I thundered.

The flying wheel of arms and legs slacked, ran a few times, then slowly stopped, and the Polydore quintette assumed normal positions.

"Halloa, stepdaddy!"

A landslide composed of Emerald, Pythagoras, and Demetrius started toward me. I side-stepped and let Rob receive the charge.

"Line them up now, for attention," I directed Ptolemy. "I have something to say to you all."

Ptolemy knocked the three terrors up against the wall, and I picked up Diogenes, who had a bump as big as an egg on his head.

"I told you," said Ptolemy to Pythagoras, "that if you brought Di down here they'd get on our trail. He wanted to see Di," he explained, "so he sneaked over there and got him."

"We were wise before today," I informed him. "I saw you all day before yesterday."

"And I discovered you yesterday," added Rob.

Ptolemy looked rather crestfallen, and then, seeming to consider that my discovery had been succeeded by inaction, which must mean non-interference, he heartened up.

"Now," I demanded, "I want you to begin at the time you left the hotel and tell me everything and why you did it."

"I wasn't having any fun after you two went off camping," he began lugubriously. "I couldn't hang around women folks all the time. I wanted boys to play with."

I saw a gleam of sympathy and understanding come into Rob's eyes.

"A harem of hens," he muttered.

"I knew we could all have a grand time here and not be a bother to mudder, or Huldah or anyone, and it seemed too bad for this nice house to be empty, and no one anywhere else wanting us."

I felt my first gleam of pity for a Polydore and wiped Diogenes' dirty, moist face carefully with my handkerchief.

"So I went home and told Huldah I had come after the boys to take them back with me."

"And told her we had sent for them?" I asked sharply.

He flushed slightly at my tone.

"No; I didn't tell her so. She got that idea herself, and I didn't tell her different."

"When did you come?"

"I came the same night that you telephoned, and took the train you and mudder came on. We got to Windy Creek in the morning. We fetched all our stuff here from home. I bought it."

"Right here," I said, "tell me where you got the money to buy your stuff and to pay your fare here."

"I cashed father's check."

"I didn't know he left you one."

"He didn't, except the one he gave me to give you for our board. You told mudder you wouldn't touch it, and it seemed a pity not to have it working."

Visions of a future Polydore doing the chain and ball step flashed before my vision.

"And they cashed it for you at the bank?"

"Sure. Father always has me cash his checks for him."

"What amount did you fill in?" I asked enviously.

"One hundred dollars. There's a lot more in the bank, too."

"How did you get your truck here from Windy Creek?" asked Rob.

"We divided it up and each took a bunch and started on foot, and some people in an automobile, going to the town past here, took us in and brought us as far as the lane. We've been having a fine time."

"What doing?" asked Rob interestedly.

"Fishing, sailing on a raft, playing in the woods all day and—"

"Playing ghost at night," said Pythagoras with a grin.

"Who made that ghost in the window?" I demanded.

"I did. I rigged up an arm and put it out the window the afternoon I left, hoping Beth would come down and see it, but we've got a jim dandy one now."

"That was quite a shapely arm," said Rob. "Where did you learn sculpturing?"

"Oh, I rigged it up," he said casually.

"What did you bring in the way of supplies?"

"Bacon, crackers, beans, candy, popcorn, gum, peanuts, pickles, candles, matches, and butter," was the glib inventory.

"You may stay here," I said, "until we go home, but you are not to stir away from the woods about here and not on any account to come near the hotel, or let it be known that you are here. And you are to end this ghost business right off. Now, Di, we'll go home to mudder."

"No!" bawled Di. "Stay with boys. Mudder come here."

At least this was Ptolemy's interpretation of his protest.

I threatened, Rob coaxed, and Ptolemy cuffed, but every time I started to leave and jerk him after me, he uttered such demoniac yells I was forced to stop.

"Wish it was night," said Emerald regretfully. "Wouldn't he scare folks though! How does he get his voice up so high?"

"Poor little Di!" said a voice commiseratingly from the doorway. "Was Ocean plaguing him?"

Beth gathered the child in her arms, and his howls changed to sobs. Rob stood petrified with amazement at her appearance.

"Don't want to go," said Diogenes between gulps.

"Needn't go!" promised Beth. "Stay here with me, and we'll have dinner with the boys and then we'll go home and get some ice cream."

"All yite," agreed the appeased Polydore.

"May Lucien and I stay to dinner, too?" asked Rob humbly.

"No," she replied icily.

"But, Beth," I remonstrated. "Silvia will be worrying about Di. How can we explain?"

"Silvia has gone to Windy Creek for the day. You see, I met that woman you sent to the hotel, and she told me she saw Di going over the hill with a boy, and I suddenly seemed to smell one of your mice, so I sent the woman on her way, and told Silvia you and Rob had found Diogenes. Just then some people she knew came along in a car and asked her to go to Windy Creek. I made her go and told her I'd look after Di."

"You're a brick, Beth!" applauded Ptolemy.

"If you boys will be very careful and not let anyone besides us know you are here, so mudder will not hear of it, for though she'd like to see you"—this without a flicker or flinch—"we want her to have a nice rest. I'll come over every day except tomorrow and bring things from the hotel store, and bake up cookies and cake for you."

A yell of approval went up.

"Why can't you come tomorrow?" asked the greedy Demetrius.

"Because I've promised to go to the other end of the lake on a picnic. All the people at the hotel are going."

"I'll come tomorrow and spend the whole day with you," promised Rob. "We'll have a ride in the sailboat and do all sorts of things."

"Why, aren't you going on that infernal picnic?" I asked.

"No; I'll have all the picnic I want over here. Like Ptolemy I feel that I want to play with some of my own kind."

Beth looked at him approvingly; then she said a little sarcastically:

"Maybe you'll change your mind—about going on the picnic, I mean—when you see the new girl who just came to the hotel on the morning stage. She's a blonde, and not peroxided, either."

"That would certainly drive him down here, or anywhere," I laughed.

"Oh, don't you like blondes?" she asked innocently.

"He doesn't like—" I began, but Ptolemy rudely interrupted with an elaborate description of a new kind of fishing tackle he had bought.

Then Beth bade Pythagoras build a fire in the cook-stove while she set the room to rights.

"We'll eat out of doors," she said, "I think it would be more appetizing."

"How did you get here?" Rob asked her as we were leaving.

"I rowed over."

"May I come over and row you back?" he asked pleadingly.

She hesitated, and then, realizing that she could scarcely manage a boat and Diogenes at the same time, assented, bidding him not come, however, until five o'clock.

"She'll have enough of the Polydores by that time," I said to Rob on our way home.

"Do you know," he said reflectively, "I like Ptolemy. There's the making of a man in him, if he has only half a chance. I didn't suppose your sister understood children so well or was so fond of them. She looked quite the little housewife, too."

"You'd discover a lot of things you don't know, if you'd cultivate the society of women," I informed him.



CHAPTER XI

A Bad Means to a Good End

When we were setting out on the proposed picnic the next day, Rob made himself extremely unpopular by announcing his intention to spend the day otherwise. The new blonde girl gave him fetching glances of entreaty which he never even saw. He made another sensation by proposing to keep Diogenes with him. To Silvia's surprise, Diogenes voiced his delight and chattered away, I suppose, about playing with the boys, but fortunately no one understood him.

"Won't you change your mind and come, too?" he asked Beth.

She seemed on the point of accepting and then firmly declined.

When we returned at six o'clock, Rob and Diogenes were awaiting us. There was something in Rob's eyes I had not seen there before. He had the look of one in love with life.

"Did you have a nice time playing solitaire?" asked Silvia.

"I had a very nice time," he replied with a subtle smile, "but I didn't play solitaire. You know I had Diogenes."

"Diogenes apparently had a good time, too," said Silvia, looking at the child, who was certainly a wreck in the way of garments. "What did you do all day, Rob?"

"We went out on the water, played games, and had a picnic dinner outdoors."

"You had huckleberry pie for one thing," she observed, with a glance at Diogenes' dress, "and jelly for another, and—"

"Chicken, baked potatoes, milk, cake, and ice cream," he finished.

"Where did you get ice cream?" she asked.

"I went down to a dairy farm and got a gallon."

"A gallon!" she exclaimed. "For you and Diogenes?"

"We didn't eat it all," he said guardedly. "I gave what we didn't eat to some stray boys."

"I hope Di won't be ill."

"He won't," asserted Rob. "I am sure he is made of cast iron."

Throughout dinner Rob remained in high spirits. He kept eyeing Beth in a way that disconcerted her, and then suddenly he would smile with the expression of one who knows something funny, but intends to keep it a secret.

Presently Silvia left us and went upstairs to give Diogenes a bath before she put him to bed.

"You've had two days' freedom from the last of the Polydores," I called after her. "Doesn't it seem delightful?"

"Lucien," she answered slowly, "I've really missed the care of him. I was lonesome for him all day."

"He isn't such a bad little kid when he is out from Polydore environment," I admitted, regretting that he had been restored to it.

"Now tell us all about your day with the boys," Beth asked Rob, when we were left alone. "It really does seem too bad to keep a secret from Silvia, and yet it is a case of where ignorance is bliss—"

"It would be folly to be otherwise," finished Rob. "Well, Diogenes and I left here with a boat load of supplies in the way of provender and things for the boys. I had to tie Diogenes in the boat, of course, so he would not try some aquatic feat. He objected and yelled like a fiend all the way. I was glad there was no one at the hotel to come out and arrest me for cruelty to children. Of course before we landed, his cries were heard by his brothers and they were all at the water's edge. They made mulepacks of themselves and transferred the commissary supplies. The ice cream and bats and balls which I found at the store made quite a hit.

"We played baseball, fished, and had a spread on the shore. Then Ptolemy and I rowed out to where the sailboat was. I explained the mysteries of the jib and he caught on instantly. We took in the other Polydores and sailed for a couple of hours. Then we all went in swimming."

"Not Diogenes!"

"Certainly. I tucked him under my arm and he seemed perfectly at home, although greatly disappointed because we didn't succeed in catching a snake.

"I finally landed them all safely under the roof of the Haunted House, and Ptolemy assured me it was the best day of his young life. In appreciation of the diversions I had afforded him, he made a confession which proved such good news to me that I was a lenient listener and exacted no penalty."

"What was it?" I asked.

"He told me that on the day of Miss Wade's and my arrival at your house, he had made a misstatement to each of us and had not repeated to us accurately what he had overheard you telling Silvia when he was on the porch roof. Miss Wade, what did he tell you about me?"

"He said that Lucien said that your only failing was that you were daffy over women and made love to every one you saw."

"Oh, Beth!" I cried, light bursting in, "and you believed that little wretch?"

"I did."

"Then that is why you have been so—"

"Yes—so—" repeated Rob grimly.

"Well, I never did have any use for a man-flirt, and I was awfully disappointed, for I had thought from what Rob said that you were a man's man."

"And then, of course, when for the first time in my life I began being interested in a woman—in you—I played right into that little scamp's hands."

"He is a man's man, Beth," I said warmly. "What Ptolemy heard me say was that Rob was a woman-hater."

"I am not!" declared Rob indignantly—"just a woman-shyer, but I haven't finished with Ptolemy's confession. I wonder, now, if either of you can guess what he told me was Miss Wade's characteristic."

"I don't dare guess," laughed Beth.

"What I did say about Beth was that she was a born flirt."

"I am not!" protested my sister, in resentment.

"I should prefer that appellation to the one he gave you. He said you were strong-minded and a man-hater."

Even Beth saw the irony of this.

"I asked him," continued Rob, "what his motive was, and he said 'Stepdaddy didn't want Beth to know about the man-hater business,' so he took that means of throwing you off the track.

"I took the occasion to talk to him like a Dutch uncle, though I don't know exactly what that is. I think it was the first time anything but brute force had been tried on him. I must have touched some little flicker of the right thing in him, for he was really contrite and seemed to sense a different angle of vision when I explained to him what havoc could be worked by the misinformation of meddlers. He promised me he'd try to overcome his tendency to start things going wrong."

I made no comment, but it occurred to me that Ptolemy was a shrewd little fellow, and that there had been wisdom back of his strategic speeches to Beth and Rob, for he had taken the one sure course to make them both "take notice."

"So, Beth," said Rob, and her name seemed to come quite handily to him, "can't we cut out the past ten days and begin our acquaintance right?"

"I think we can," she answered.

"I had better go upstairs," I suggested, "and tell Silvia that Diogenes doesn't need a bath, seeing he has been in swimming."

Neither of them urged me to remain, so I went up to our room and found Silvia tucking Diogenes under cover.

"What did you come up for?" she asked. "I was just coming down to join you."

"Beth is treating Rob so—differently, that I thought it well to retreat."

"I am so glad! Whatever came over the spirit of her dreams?"

"They've just discovered in the course of conversation that Ptolemy as usual crossed the wires and told Beth Rob was a flirt, and then informed Rob that Beth was strong-minded and a man-hater."

"Oh, the little imp!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"I don't know. It worked, anyway, so Ptolemy was the bad means to a good end."

"How did they ever happen to discover what he had done?"

"They caught on from something Rob said," I told her, feeling again guilty at keeping my first secret from her.

"It will be a fine match for Beth," said Silvia. "Rob is such a splendid man, and then he has plenty of money. He can give her anything she wants."

I winced. I think Silvia must have been conscious of it, even though the room was dark, for she came to me quickly.

"I wish I could give you—everything—anything—you want, Silvia."

"You have, Lucien. The things that no money could buy—love and protection."

Well, maybe I had. I had surely given her protection from the Polydores, though she didn't know to what extent.

"I am going to give you more material things, though, Silvia. When we go home, I shall start to work in earnest and see if I can't get enough ahead to make a good investment I know of."

"I'd rather do without the necessities even, Lucien, than to have you work any harder than you have been doing. We must let well enough alone."



CHAPTER XII

"Too Much Polydores"

The next morning at breakfast, Beth announced that she and Rob were going to spend the day camping in the woods.

Silvia and I tried not to look significantly at each other, but Beth was very keen.

"We will take Diogenes with us," she instantly added.

"Oh, no!" protested Silvia. "He'll be such a bother. And then he can't walk very far, you know."

"He'll be no bother," persisted Beth. "And we'll borrow the little cart to draw him in."

"Yes," acquiesced Rob. "We sure want Diogenes with us."

"I'll have them put up a lunch for you," proposed Silvia.

"No," Rob objected. "We are going to forage and cook over a fire in the woods."

"Then," I proposed to Silvia with alacrity, "we'll have our first day alone together—the first we have had since the Polydores came into our lives. I'll rent the 'autoo' again, and we will go through the country and dine at some little wayside inn."

"Get the 'autoo', now, Lucien," advised Beth privately, "and make an early start, so Rob and I can take supplies from the store without arousing Silvia's suspicions."

"I don't believe," said Silvia disappointedly, when we were "autooing" on our way, "that they are in love after all, or that he has proposed, or that he is going to."

"Where did you draw all those pessimistic inferences from?" I asked.

"From their both being so keen to take Diogenes with them."

"Diogenes would be no barrier to their love-making," I told her. "He couldn't repeat what they said; at least, not so anyone could understand him."

Many miles away we came upon a picturesque little old-time tavern where we had an appetizing dinner, and then continued on our aimless way. It was nearly ten o'clock when we returned to the hotel, where the owner of the "autoo" was waiting.

Rob came down the roadway.

"Where's Beth?" asked Silvia.

"She has gone to bed. The day in the open made her sleepy."

When Silvia had left us, the old farmer said with a chuckle: "I can't offer you another swig of stone fence."

"It's probably just as well you can't," I replied.

"I'd like to be introduced to one," said Rob, who appeared to be somewhat downcast. "I sure need a bracer."

"What's the matter, Rob?" I asked when we were lighting our pipes. "A strenuous day? Two in rapid 'concussion' with the Polydores must be nerve-racking."

"Yes; I admit there seemed to be 'too much Polydores.' We all had a happy reunion, and I devoted the forenoon to the entertainment of the famous family so I could be entitled to the afternoon off to spend with Beth. At noon we built a fire and cooked a sumptuous dinner. Beth baked up some things to keep them supplied a couple of days longer. After dinner I asked her to go for a row. She insisted on taking Diogenes along, and the others all followed us on a raft. So I decided to cut the water sports short, and Beth and I started for a walk in the woods. Three or more were constantly right on our trail. I begged and bribed, but to no avail. They were sticktights all right, and," he added morosely, "she seemed covertly to aid and abet them. When we started for home, I found that the young fiends had broken the cart, so I had to carry Diogenes most of the way, and of course he bellowed as usual at being parted from the whelps."



"They aren't such 'fine little chaps' after all," I couldn't resist commenting. "Familiarity breeds contempt, you see. I am sorry Diogenes had so much of their society. He'll be unendurable tomorrow. Well, you had some day!"

"So did the Polydores. Demetrius and Diogenes fell in the fire twice. Emerald threw a finger out of joint, but Ptolemy quickly jerked it into place. Pythagoras was kicked off the raft twice, following a mutiny. Demetrius threw a lighted match into the vines and set fire to the house. They said it was a 'beaut of a day', though, and urged us to come tomorrow and repeat the program. By the way, they went across the lake on their raft yesterday and bought a tent of some campers. They have pitched it in the woods beyond the house."

When I went upstairs Silvia met me disconsolately.

"He didn't propose," she said disappointedly. "She wouldn't let him."

"Did you wake her up to find out?" I asked.

"She hadn't gone to bed and she wasn't sleepy. She was trimming a hat."

"Why wouldn't she let him propose, if she cares for him?" I asked perplexedly.

"Well, you see," explained Silvia, "that when a girl—a coquette girl like Beth—is as sure of a man as she is of Rob, she gets a touch of contrariness or offishness or something. She said it would have been too prosaic and cut and dried if they had gone away for a day in the woods and come back engaged. She wants the unexpected."

"Do you think she loves him?" I asked interestedly.

"She doesn't say so. You can't tell from what she says anyway. Still, I think she is hovering around the danger point."

"She'd better watch out. Rob isn't the kind of a man who will stand for too much thwarting," I replied.

"If he'd only play up a little bit to some one else, it would bring things to a climax," said my wife sagely.

"There's no one else to play up to. The blonde left today because it was so slow here."

"Maybe some new girl will come tomorrow," said Silvia, "or there's that trim little waitress who is waiting her way through college. He gave her a good big tip yesterday. I think I will give him a hint."

"It wouldn't help any. He wouldn't know how to play such a game if you could persuade him to try. He'd probably tell the girl his motive in being attentive to her and then she'd back out. Maybe, after all, Beth doesn't love him."

"I think she does," replied my wife, "because she is getting absent-minded. She let Diogenes go too near the fire. His shoes are burned, his hair singed, and his dress scorched. He woke up when I came in and he was so cross. He acted just the way he does when he is with his brothers."



CHAPTER XIII

Rob's Friend the Reporter

Silvia's vague prophecy was fulfilled. When the event of the day, the arrival of the stage, occurred, a solitary passenger alighted, a slim, alert, city-cut young woman.

She looked us all over—not boldly, but with a business-like directness as if she were taking inventory of stock, or acting as judge at a competition. When her blue eyes lighted on Rob, they darkened with pleasure.

"Oh, Mr. Rossiter!" she exclaimed, "this is better than I hoped for."

They shook hands with the air of being old acquaintances, and he introduced her to us as "Miss Frayne, from my home town."

She went into the office, registered, and sent her bag to her room. Then she asked Rob if she might have a talk with him.

They walked away together down to the shore and she was talking to him quite excitedly. Rob suddenly stopped, threw back his head and laughed in the way that it is good to hear a man laugh.

"Miss Frayne must be a wit," observed Beth dryly.

I looked at her keenly. Something in her eyes as she gazed after the retreating couple told me that Silvia's surmise was right, and that Miss Frayne might be just the little punch needed to send Beth over the danger point.

"I rather incline to the belief that Ptolemy told the truth in the first place," she continued, and then looked disappointed because I did not contradict her.

I decided not to reveal, for the present anyway, what I knew of Miss Frayne, of whom I had often heard Rob speak.

"She can't be going to stay long," said Silvia hopefully. "She didn't bring a trunk."

"She doesn't need one," replied Beth. "She is probably one of those mannish girls who believe in a skirt and a few waists for a wardrobe."

When Rob and the newcomer returned, he seemed to be monopolizing the conversation in a very emphatic and earnest manner. As they came up the steps to the veranda, we heard her say:

"Very well, Mr. Rossiter, I will do just as you say. I have perfect confidence in your judgment."

They passed on into the hotel and Beth jumped up and went down toward the lake.

"Did you ever hear Rob speak of this Miss Frayne?" asked Silvia.

"Often. She is engaged to his cousin, and is a reporter on a big newspaper."

"Why didn't you say so? Oh, Lucien," she continued before I could speak, "were you really shrewd enough to see which way the wind was blowing?"

"Sure. After you set my sails for me last night."

Just then Rob came out of the hotel.

"Say, Lucien, I want to see you a minute. Come on down the road."

"We've got some work ahead," he said when we were out of Silvia's hearing.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Miss Frayne is up—and doing. What do you suppose her paper sent her here for?"

"For a rest, or to write up the mosquitoes of H. H."

"H. H. is all right, only it happens they stand for Haunted House."

"Not really?"

"Yes, really. The rumors of the house and the ghost, greatly elaborated, of course, reached the Sunday editor of the paper Miss Frayne is on, and he sent her up here to revive the story of the murder, translate the ghost, and get snapshots of the house. She was quite keen to have me take her there at once, so she could commence her article, but I headed her off, so she wouldn't discover the summer boarders at the hotel annex. I assured her that daytime was not the time to gather material and the only way she could get a proper focus on the ghost and acquire the thrills necessary for an inspiration was to see the place first by night."

"If she would view Fair Melrose aright," I quoted, "she must visit it in the pale moonlight, but you were very clever to delay her visit long enough for us to get over there and warn the enemy. If she had gone down there and caught the Polydores unawares, she would have come back here and revealed our secret, and there would be the end of Silvia's vacation."

"To tell the truth, Lucien, I wasn't thinking so much of that as I was of Miss Frayne's interests. You see she has come a long ways for a story and if it collapsed from her ghostly expectations to a showdown of four healthy boys, the blow might mean a good deal to her in a business way. I think we had better let Ptolemy plant a ghost just once more for her. You know you made him take a reef in the flapping of ghostly garments. Can't we resurrect the specter and restore the wails just for tonight, and bring her over here at the witching hour?"

"Sure we will," I agreed heartily. "She shall have her ghost and all the trappings. It will give the Polydores the time of their lives."

"Let's go over there now and put Ptolemy next so he can get busy on his spirits." We went down to the shore and pulled off. Midway across the lake, Rob suddenly rested on his oars and asked:

"Where did Beth go?"

"Back to first principles," I replied. "She thinks, judging from your excited, earnest manner in addressing Miss Frayne and your rushing frantically away for a walk with her before she had removed the travel dust, that Ptolemy was quite correct, after all, in declaring you to be a 'ladies' man.'"

"Didn't you explain to her who Miss Frayne was?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I am on my vacation and I am not doing any explaining, professionally or otherwise."

He swung the boat around.

"Starboard!" I cried. "Don't you know a trump card when you see it?"

Again he rested on his oars and stared at me.

"What do you mean, Lucien? If you have a grain of hope for me, please let me in."

I repeated Silvia's theories.

"I am not going to win her that way," he said slowly, "not by playing a part."

"Well," I declared, "if you go back to the hotel now, you can't explain Miss Frayne to Beth, because she went for a walk with old Professor Treadtop."

He turned the boat again.

"Silvia won't come to the Haunted House, will she?" he asked.

"No, indeed. Nothing would induce her to."

"Then you bring Miss Frayne here tonight and I'll bring Beth. And I'll be sure that there are no double boats lying around loose. I'll have two at the dock, see?"

"I see your system," I replied, "but I am not sure how I can explain Miss Frayne to Silvia. Silvia is not in the least narrow-minded, but still to leave the hotel at midnight with a perfectly strange young woman—"

"You can tell her I want a clear field for Beth. She will see it is in a good cause."

The Polydores greeted us rapturously and roughly. When I had restored order, and they were once more right side up, I addressed the chief of the bandits.

"Ptolemy," I began, "a young lady, who is a reporter for a big newspaper, has come from many miles away to write up the haunted house and the ghost, and they will be pictured out in the Sunday edition."

Ptolemy's eyes glistened, and "Them Three" were instantly "at attention."

"Oh, say, stepdaddy," begged the young chief, "let me play ghost right for her, just once, will you?"

"You may for tonight," I said, "but you will have to be very careful and not overdo the matter, for she isn't the kind that is easily fooled. She's had to keep her eyes and wits sharpened, else she wouldn't be on a newspaper, so I want you to be very careful and not bungle. Make a neat job of it."

"I'll do it up brown, you bet!" he cried gleefully.

"Naw, do it up white," drawled Pythagoras.

"Show me your ghost stuff by daylight," I demanded, "and let me see how you are going to rig him up."

He brought forth a head and shoulders and arms that were ghastly even in sunlight, and proceeded to explain them.

"I got this skull out of father's study, and the arms came off a skeleton mother had in her antiquities. I dressed them up in a pillow case and the white cotton gloves are Huldah's. I can get some phosphorus in the woods and put it in the eyes. And Demetrius bought two electric flashlights yesterday, and Pythagoras can snap them once in a while from the lower windows."

"You are some little property man," said Rob in admiration. "But tell me who produces those heart-rending shrieks?"

"That was Pythagoras who did the high ones. And Em came in with low groans. Show 'em, boys."

Pythagoras uttered high-trebled, thin-toned whines and ever and anon Emerald added a basso profundo accompaniment, making a combination that was most trying to the ears at close range.

"I don't know," said Rob, "as I want Beth subjected to such a realistic performance. We will loiter in the distance."

"Your rehearsal," I assured Ptolemy, "is very good, but you must remember that Miss Frayne is used to encountering things far more terrible than ghosts. She may insist on coming right in here to investigate. Of course, if she does, I can't refuse or she'll think I am afraid, or else that I put up a fake ghost here, myself."

"We'll lock the door with a chair," suggested Emerald.

"She'll be quite capable of breaking into a little house like this, but I'll keep her back until you have time to haul in your ghost and make a quick and quiet getaway by a back window. Then another thing, she'll be over here tomorrow morning to take some pictures of the house, so by sunrise I want you all to take up your abode in the tent you have in the woods and stay there until I come and tell you the coast is clear."

"We're dead on," assured Ptolemy. "I'm glad there's going to be something doing. We're getting tired of being here alone. I had to tie Demetrius up this morning. He was bound to go over to the hotel and see mudder."

"Don't one of you dare to make such an attempt," I said peremptorily. "You keep right on here for a few days. Some of us, either Rob, or Beth and I will drop over every day. If you play your ghost just as I tell you and keep out of sight, I'll bring you over some ice cream tomorrow."

"Bring me a bigger bat."

"Bring me a mitt."

"Bring me a boat," came in chorus from Ptolemy, Emerald, and Demetrius.

"What'll you give me to stay here?" asked Pythagoras, who was a born bargain-driver.

"I'll give you a licking if you don't stay," was the only offer he gleaned from me.

"Be good boys," adjured the softhearted Rob, "and I'll bring you everything I can find at the hotel."

It was long past the luncheon hour when we returned. We found Miss Frayne wondering at Rob's sudden disappearance and Beth was accordingly mystified.

I planted myself directly in front of Miss Frayne.

"May I take you to the haunted house tonight at the yawning churchyard hour?" I asked. "I am most eminently fitted to be your guide, for I was the first one of this assembly to see the ghost in toto."

"He saw it over a stone fence," remarked Rob.

"Indeed you may, thank you very much," she said enthusiastically.

Silvia's face was a study.

"And will you come with me, Beth?" asked Rob. "Of course, the ghost is an old story to us, but we really should hover in Lucien's wake out of regard to the conventions."

"Is Miss Frayne interested in ghosts?" asked Beth.

Miss Frayne turned and answered the question.

"Not personally," she admitted frankly, "but the newspaper I am on is, and they sent me up here to get a story."

"Oh, you are a reporter?"

"Yes; on the Times."

"She won't be one long, though," asserted Rob cheerfully, "because she is going to marry my cousin in the fall."

Beth's expression remained neutral at the announcement, but I noticed throughout the afternoon that she was extremely affable toward Miss Frayne, and that she had the whiphand again with Rob, and meanwhile he seemed to be gathering a grim determination to do or die.

"Lucien, how did you come to ask Miss Frayne to go to that awful place tonight?" asked Silvia when we had gone to our room for a siesta, which seemed impossible by reason of the bellowing of Diogenes, who balked at being required to lie down.

"Rob asked me to," I informed her, when I had cowed Diogenes, "so he could have a free field for Beth. I believe he planned this expedition so he could storm the citadel."

She reflected.

"Well, maybe he is wise. Girls like Beth have to be taken by storm sometimes. I shouldn't wonder if Rob could be a bit of a bully, too, but—"

She ended her speculations in a shriek.

"Oh, Lucien! Diogenes has jumped out the window."

We rushed down stairs, Silvia informing the guests in transit of the awful catastrophe.

Silvia paused at the door opening on to the veranda.

"I can't see him," she said faintly, closing her eyes. "You'll have to tend to it alone, Lucien."

Beth was already at the telephone, which connected with the country doctor's. Rob joined me. We located our window, and began hunting underneath for the pieces.

"Where in the world do you suppose he landed?" asked Rob.

Just then the missing one came around the house clasping a bologna sausage in his fist.

"Ye Gods and little Polydores!" exclaimed Rob.

I caught Diogenes by the arm and rushed him in to Silvia.

I found her in company with an old colored mammy, who was laundress for the hotel.

"Sho'," she was saying, "I done gwine by de windah with ma baby cab full o' cloes, an' dis yer white chile done come tumblin' down an' fall right in ma cab. Now, what do you think o' dat? I reckon I was nevah so done clean skeert afoah in ma life. An' ef de chile didn't grab one of ma bolognas and done git out de cab an' run around de house."

"Oh," cried Silvia, "poor little baby! Come to mudder. Lucien, where are you going with him?"

I had picked up the acrobatic Polydore and was going up the stairs two at a time. I gained our room, locked the door and proceeded to give the "poor little baby" all that was coming to him. Now and then above his howls, I heard Silvia's plaintive protests outside the door, but I finished my job completely and satisfactorily, and laid the penitent Polydore in his little bed. Then I went out into the hall, feeling better than I had in months.

Silvia essayed to pass me, but I took her arm and led her to a recess in the hall.

"I am convinced," I told her, "that we have Diogenes as a permanent pensioner on our hands, so it was up to me to show him where to get off. You can't go to him for a quarter of an hour."

We went down stairs and I was sure I read suppressed regret in the faces of most of the guests at learning of the soft place in which Diogenes' lot had been cast. Silvia tearfully told Rob and Beth of my cruelty.



"Do him good!" approved Rob heartily.

"How mean men are!" declared Beth indignantly. "I am going up and comfort the poor little thing."

I held up the key to the room with a grin, and she had to content herself by making unkind remarks about me.

At the expiration of the allotted time, I handed Silvia the key. She took it from me without a word or a look. It was quite evident I was in wrong.

In half an hour my wife came down, carrying Diogenes, who, dressed in fresh white clothes, was a good picture of an angel child. She passed me and went to a remote corner of the veranda and sat down. When he spied me, he leaped from her arms and ran to me.

"Ocean," he said propitiatingly, "me love oo."

I took him up. His arms clasped about my neck, and over his curly head, I winked at Silvia and Beth.

Rob roared.



CHAPTER XIV

A Midnight Excursion

The night was Satan's own: dark, wind-shrieking, and Polydorish. No one saw us leave the hotel when, at a late hour, we started on our little excursion. On account of the darkness and the poor landing near the haunted house, we decided to go by the overland route. I managed to purloin a lantern from the kitchen to light our path.

Rob and Beth kept behind Miss Frayne and myself, and in spite of the wildness of the weather, he was evidently pleading his suit, for now and then above the roar of the wind, I heard his ardent voice. Apparently Beth had not yet given him any encouragement.

Going down the lane my lantern underwent a total eclipse, so we had a Jordan-like road to travel. Miss Frayne was quite impervious to unfavorable conditions, as it was a matter of bread and butter to her, she said, and she was accustomed to braving worse storms than this, and anyway she hadn't come here for a summer picnic.

When we came into the grove it was so dark, I lost my bearings.

"Why didn't we bring a flashlight?" asked Beth.

"There were none at the hotel," I told her.

"I know some boys," said Rob with a little laugh, "who would have lent us one—maybe."

Fortunately we were well provided with safety matches and after striking a box or so, we gained the open. A rise of ground hid the house, but when we climbed to the top, the ghost loomed up ghastlier than ever.

I felt the business-like Miss Frayne start and shiver as a little scream escaped her. I didn't wonder. Even I, knowing that it was an illusion and a snare, felt my flesh creeping as I looked at the ghastly thing in the window.

Every now and then according to schedule a light flashed from the windows below. And then came the blood-curdling sounds—whimpers and groans that were rivaling the whistling of the wind.

"This is awful!" said Miss Frayne in a hoarse whisper.

"Do you want to go inside the house?" I asked.

"No—o! I couldn't. Not tonight."

We were some little in advance of Rob and Beth. When one spectral sound came like a tense whisper, Miss Frayne turned and fled, and of course I followed her. We could not see our two companions, but suddenly in an interim of wind and ghost whispers, we heard Beth say:

"Yes, Rob. I think we should really be cosier in a story-and-a-half cottage than we should in a bungalow."

"Ye Gods!" muttered Miss Frayne, "did he propose in the face of that awful Thing?"

"Ship ahoy!" I called.

"Oh, didn't you go inside?" asked Rob.

"Go in! I wouldn't go inside that place; not if I lose my job on the paper. What can it be? You don't seem to mind it, Miss Wade."

"Well, you know," said Beth apologetically, "this is my third performance."

We were now down the hill out of sight of the gruesome, ghastly window display, and Miss Frayne gained courage as we retreated.

"Of course I don't believe in ghosts," she said, "but what do you suppose that is?"

"I had a theory," I said, "that it is the work of a lunatic, but I've since concluded it is due to practical jokers. I'll tell you what I'll do. If you wait here, I'll investigate and see what I can find out for you."

"Oh, would you really dare, Mr. Wade? I don't believe men ever have creepy nerves," she exclaimed.

I began to feel ashamed of my deception.

"I wouldn't go, Lucien," warned Rob, coming to my rescue. "There may be a gang of desperadoes in there, or counterfeit money-makers, or something of that kind. Besides, I have a far more interesting piece of news than anything the ghost could give you."

"Rob!" protested Beth.

"We know it already," I laughed. "It's to be a story-and-a-half high."

"I think I am getting material for quite a story," declared Miss Frayne.

I knew Beth's dislike of scenes and display of emotions—mock heroics—she called them, so I made no congratulatory speeches of the bless-you-my-children order, but presently under the cover of darkness, I felt a little hand slipped in mine, and my clasp was eloquent of what I felt.

"I hope," said Miss Frayne, "that daylight will make me so ashamed of my cowardice that I can come down here and take some pictures and go inside the house."

"We'll all come with you," promised Beth. "There's safety in numbers."

When we were back at the hotel I managed to have a few words with Rob before we went upstairs.

"Bless the ghost!" he said cheerily. "When Beth first glimpsed it, she just turned and fell into my arms. She was really frightened for the first time. I shall feel under obligations to Ptolemy for a lifetime."

"Thank goodness!" I ejaculated fervently, "that I am under no obligations to a Polydore. Ptolemy certainly did put up the most ghastly thing in the way of ghosts. The lights in the eyes of the skeleton were frightful."

"Did you see the ghost?" asked Silvia sleepily, when I came in.

"Yes; same old ghost, only more of him," I assured her.

She was asleep before I had uttered this reply.

"Silvia," I said, "I have a more startling piece of news for you than that."

She sat bolt upright.

"Are they engaged, Lucien?"

"They are. They are building their castle—I mean their story-and-a-half cottage already."

Alas for my own desire to sleep! I had so effectually awakened Silvia that she planned Beth's trousseau, the wedding, honeymoon, and the furnishing of their house before she subsided.



CHAPTER XV

What Miss Frayne Found Out

We had planned to go to the haunted house at nine o'clock the next morning, but owing to my dissipation of the night before, it was long after the appointed hour when Silvia awoke me.

I hurried down stairs and ate my breakfast in solitude. I inquired for Beth and Rob, but the waitress told me they had left the dining-room at seven o'clock and gone for a walk in the woods. She said it with a knowing smile that told me she, too, must be a "sister of the Golden Circle."

"And Miss Frayne?" I asked.

"She went down the road over an hour ago."

Evidently her courage had come up with the sun. I was greatly disturbed at the chance of her stumbling over one or more Polydores, and Rob didn't want to let the cat out of the bag until her article was written, as he believed that if the ghostly spell were broken, she would lose her "punch."

I was unable to think of any plausible explanation to offer Silvia as to why I should start in pursuit, and I wished all sorts of dire calamities on Rob's blond head. Lovers were surely blind and selfish.

About ten o'clock they came strolling in.

"We didn't know it was so late," said Beth cheerfully, "but the boys will keep in the woods all right."

"With her nose for news, there is no telling how far into the woods Miss Frayne's investigation will take her."

"Say we go down by the lane and meet her," proposed Beth, "so that if she has run across the boys we can explain to her why we desire secrecy from Silvia."

"You and Rob go," I advised. "It would seem odd to Silvia if we didn't ask her to go with us."

So the newly engaged couple started down the road, but in their self-absorption they didn't notice the turn to the lane, and they got half way to Windy Creek before they came back to earth and the hotel. Miss Frayne still had not shown up, and I began to have misgivings lest the Polydores had locked her up in the house, but finally just as we were having a happy family gathering and discussing the new event under the shade of the one resort tree, she came excitedly up to us.

"Such an interesting morning as I have had!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "I made some corking pictures of the place, and I've found out about not only that ghost, but all ghosts—the whole race of ghosts."

I hurriedly interrupted her and made elaborate and jumbled apologies for not keeping our engagement, which evidently bored her and mystified Silvia.

"I am glad I went alone," she finally replied. "Otherwise I might not have got such an interesting interview."

Beth, Rob, and I made frantic and appealing gestures to her behind Silvia's back, but she didn't seem to notice them.

"Whom did you interview, the ghost?" asked Silvia.

"No, indeed. Some very interesting and unusual people who are staying there."

I threw her a wildly beseeching glance and Beth and Rob began at the same time to ply her with distracting questions. I think she seemed to divine that there was something in the situation that was not to be explained, but Silvia interrupted them.

"Do let Miss Frayne tell us about her interview," she said. "We all seem to be very talkative today."

I saw there was no way to dodge the denouement, so I awaited the finale in dread desperation. It proved to be more of a stunner than I had expected.

"I went down the lane," she said, "and through the grove, up the little hill, and laughed at myself for the hallucinations of the night before. There were no ghosts visible and the door to the haunted house was hospitably open. I stood on the hill long enough to make some pictures and then went on. I walked up the steps fearlessly and looked within. A woman, an untidy, disheveled-looking woman, sat at a table writing furiously in just the same breathless way I write when I have a scoop, and the presses are waiting open-mouthed for my copy.

"She looked up and scowled at my intrusion.

"'Don't bother me,' she said, and continued writing.

"I went through the house and came outside again where I met an absent-minded, spectacled man. I told him who I was and of my object in coming to the house. Then he showed signs of coming to.

"'Oh, the ghost!' he said. 'That is what brought me here. My wife is interested in more tangible, more material things. We have just returned from a long journey, and when we were nearly to our destination, our place of residence, I happened to read in a paper about this haunted house and its apparition, so we came right up here this morning to remain overnight and see if the article were true.'

"I told him how successful I had been and he became quite alert and enthusiastic. He showed me why I should not have been alarmed, because ghosts, he said, were scientific facts. He then explained to me at length how the gases from the dead arise and form a nebulous vapor or a vaporous nebula. It sounded very simple and plausible when he told me, but I can't seem to remember it. Fortunately I have it all down in writing."

Silvia's eyes and mine had met in speechless horror since she had mentioned the "writing woman."

"Lucien!" Silvia now said in a tragic, hoarse whisper—"the Polydores!"

"Oh, do you know them?" asked Miss Frayne. "Dr. Felix Polydore, the eminent LL.D. or something like that."

"The whole family are D's," I said.

"His wife is the highest of high-brows, and they are averse to interviews. They moved to a small city sometime ago to be secluded. Just think of my opportunity! I have them headlined! 'The Haunted House of Hope Haven. Ghost that appears at midnight scientifically explained by the distinguished Dr. Felix Polydore.'"

"I think we are in luck," I said to Silvia, on second thoughts. "We will take them home by the nape of the neck and deliver their children into their keeping to have and to hold."

"I can't turn Diogenes over to them," she said plaintively.

"Diogenes!" repeated Miss Frayne in astonishment.

I then narrated to her the history of our next-door neighbors, and how they planted their five children upon us.

"We had better go down at once and see them," said Silvia, "before they escape. No telling where they might take it in their heads to go."

"We will," I said, "we'll go soon after luncheon."

"Thrice blessed haunted house," quoted Rob. "It gave me Beth, and it has restored the parents of the wise Ptolemy and 'Them Three.'"

"And gave me a ripping story," said Miss Frayne.

Just then the gong sounded, and after luncheon while I was comfortably tipped back in a chair, my feet on the veranda rail, seeing in the smoke from my pipe dream visions of Polydoreless days, a faint cry from Silvia brought me back to earth.

"Lucien, look!"

I looked.

My chair came down to all fours and my feet slipped from the rail.



CHAPTER XVI

Ptolemy's Tale

Four defiant, determined-looking Polydores came up the steps and bore down upon us. Then Silvia as usual thought she saw land ahead.

"Oh, boys," she asked hopefully, "did your father send for you to meet him here? And when is he going to take you home?"

"Didn't I tell you," I thundered at Ptolemy, "that you were not to leave that house—"

"It left us," interrupted Emerald with a grin.

"Went up in smoke," added Pythagoras blithely, "ghost and all."

"Four minutes quicker," said Demetrius, "and it would have took father and mother, too."

"Oh, is it the haunted house they are talking about?" asked Miss Frayne joyfully. "What a story I'll have!"

Life to Miss Frayne seemed to be one story after another. Well, it was certainly becoming the same way to us.

"Did the ghost set fire to the house?" asked Beth.

"What are you all talking about," demanded Silvia, "and how did you know these boys were there? How long have you been here?" she asked, turning to Ptolemy.

"I told you," I repeated angrily to the subdued boy, "not to leave. Those were plain orders. If the house did burn up, you could have stayed in your tent in the woods."

Ptolemy's lips twitched faintly.

"The house burned up and all our clothes and our stuff to eat, and our bats and things, and father and mother went away and I didn't know what to do, so—I came here. But we'll go back to our own house. We have learned to cook. Come on, boys."

"You'll stay right here with me, son," and Rob's hand came down intimately on Ptolemy's shoulder.

"It isn't likely we'll turn them out into the woods, when they haven't a roof over their heads," declared Silvia, drawing Emerald to her side.

"I think you are absolutely inhuman, Lucien," cried Beth. "I don't see what has changed you so," and she proceeded to make room for Pythagoras in the porch swing.

"Did the fire scare you?" asked Miss Frayne gently, as she put her arms about Demetrius.

"Et tu, Brute? Well, I plainly see this is no place for an inhuman, childless, married man," I said with a laugh, walking down the veranda.

In the doorway I met Diogenes, who raised his chubby arms invitingly.

"Up, up, Ocean!" he begged sweetly.

I lifted him to my shoulder, and then turned and walked triumphantly back to the family group.

"Now," I said, "here is the whole d-dashed family. And I propose that each keep unto his charge the child he has now under his wing."

Miss Frayne quickly relinquished the dirty Demetrius. Beth shrank away from Pythagoras.

As I seated myself still holding Diogenes, his brothers sprang toward him in greeting, but he spat at one, kicked at another, and pulled the hair of a third, although he patted Ptolemy's cheek gently.

"Now, we'll have this affair thrashed out," I declared in my most authoritative, professional manner, and I then proceeded to explain to Silvia the housing of the Polydores, and our strategies to keep their arrival a secret simply on her account.

"Because you know," interpolated Beth, with a consideration for the feelings of the young Polydores—a consideration they had never before encountered—"we wanted you to have a nice rest."

Silvia looked quite penitent and remorseful for her seeming lack of appreciation of our combined efforts. When I had answered all her inquiries satisfactorily, Miss Frayne's curiosity regarding the progeny of the eminent Polydores had to be fully relieved.

"And do you mean that the scribbling lady I saw at the table is really the mother of these five boys?" she asked, unable to grasp the fact.

"Yes; and the father hereof is the man who explained the ghosts to you so scientifically that you cannot remember what he said. Now, Ptolemy, we'll hear your story of the fire and the whereabouts of your parents. Take your time and tell it accurately."

"Well, you see we did just as you said to, and took the ghost out of the window and went out to the woods early this morning so as not to let the paper lady see us."

"Oh!" cried Miss Frayne, "am I the paper lady? I begin to see daylight. Are these boys the ghost perpetrators, and were you in on the put-up job?"

"You're a good guesser," I replied.

"And why wasn't I taken into your confidence?"

"For two reasons. First, because your friend Rob said you'd get better results for copy—more inspirations and thrills, if you weren't behind the scenes on the ghost business,—and then we didn't want to tell you about the presence of the Polydores lest inadvertently you betray the fact to my wife. Now, proceed, Ptolemy."

"After we were in the woods, I heard an automobile coming down the lane, and I went up near the edge of the woods and peeked out behind a tree, and pretty soon I saw father and mother come over the hill and go in our haunted house, so I came up there and hid under the window and heard mother say: 'What an ideal place to write this is. It looks as if I might really get a chance to write unmo—'

"'—lested,'" I finished for him.

"I guess so," he allowed. "Well, she began writing, so I didn't go in, but when father came outside I went up to him and told him you and mudder were at the hotel and that we were all with you. He told me they came up here to write an article for some big magazine about the ghost. He hired an automobile down at Windy Creek to bring them up to the house and the man was going to come back for them tomorrow morning. I didn't let on the ghost was a fake, because I thought he'd be so disappointed to have all his trouble for nothing, and he'd be mad at me for swiping his skull. I told him a paper lady was coming and then I went back to the woods. He went down with me to see the boys, and he said he would come back and have lunch with us. Mother doesn't ever stop to eat at noon when she is writing.

"He went back and talked to the paper lady and pretty soon he came down and ate with us. I told him all about how we couldn't get any girl to do the work for us and so we had been living with you, and how Di got sick and mudder was all worn out taking care of him and came down here to rest, and that you wouldn't cash the check, so I did and was spending it and he said that was all right." Here Ptolemy flashed me a most triumphant glance.

"He said you must be paid for all your expense and trouble, so he made out a check and gave it to me and told me to make mudder a nice present. He ain't so bad when he ain't thinking about dead stuff. When he felt in his pocket for his check book, he found a letter he had got yesterday and forgotten to open, so he read it then and found it was from some magazine, and the man said he'd pay his and mother's expenses to go to Chili and write up some stuff about—something. So father said they must go at once."

"Not to Chili!" I exclaimed.

"Yes; we all went up to the house with him and I took mother's pencil and paper away so she would have to listen. She was wild for Chili, and I had to go and hunt up a farmer who had a machine to take them down to Windy Creek. Father signed another blank check for you and said you could board us with it or do anything you thought best.

"Then mother took a lot of papers out of her bag, some stuff she had written and didn't get suited with, and she stuffed them in the stove and set fire to them. Then we all went down to the lane to see father and mother off and when we got back the house was on fire. The chimney burned out."

"Guess mother must have written some hot stuff," said Emerald.

"It was burning so fast," continued Ptolemy, "that we didn't dast go in to save anything and all our food and clothes and balls and bats and fishing tackle are gone, and we didn't know what to do, or what to eat, and so—we came here."

"You did just right, Ptolemy," I admitted. "I shouldn't have called you down—not until I heard your story, anyway."

I held out my hand, which he shook solemnly, but with an injured air.

"Do you mean to tell me," asked Miss Frayne, "that your father and mother went away without seeing the baby?"

Ptolemy flushed a little.

"You see," he explained apologetically, "mother gets woolly when she writes and she's forgotten there's Di. She thinks Demetrius is the youngest. She's mad about writing. If she sees a blank paper anywhere, she ain't happy until she has written something on it, and the sight of a pencil makes her fingers itch."



"Take warning, Miss Frayne," I said, "and don't get too literary."

"Some day," resumed Ptolemy, "mother'll get the antiques all out of her system and then she'll remember us."

I liked the boy's defense of his mother, and I began to see that Rob was right in thinking there were possibilities in the lad, but it was Silvia's influence that had developed them, for in the days when he borrowed soup plates of us, there had been no redeeming trait that I could discern.

And while I was recalling this, I heard Silvia saying to him kindly: "And in the meantime, I'll be 'mudder' to you."

"So will I," chimed in Beth.

"I'll be a big brother," offered Rob.

"I'll be next friend, Ptolemy," I contributed.

Strange to say, my offer seemed to make the most impression on him. He came to me and gazed into my eyes earnestly.

"I'll do just as you say," he promised.

"Where do we'uns come in?" asked Pythagoras, with one of his satanic grins.

Miss Frayne saved the day.

"You all come in with me," she said, "and have lunch. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and I understand there is warm ginger cake and huckleberry pie. Aren't you hungry?"

"You bet," spoke up Pythagoras. "We only had coffee, peanuts, and beans down in the woods, and father ate the beans and drank all the coffee."

"We're out of the frying pan into the fire," said Silvia woefully, when we were alone.

"I wish the Polydore parents had gone up in smoke," I declared.

"Then your last hope of getting rid of the children would have gone up in smoke, too," argued Beth.

"No; in case of the demise of their parents, we could have turned them over body and soul to the probate court," I informed her.

"We will fill out this blank check for any amount, Lucien," declared Silvia, "that will induce a housekeeper to take charge of their house. I shall keep Diogenes, though, until he is older."

"I wouldn't mind Ptolemy, either," I admitted. "I shall be interested in seeing what I can make of him, and he hasn't a bad influence over Diogenes, but I'll be hanged if anything would induce me to have 'Them Three' Chessy cats running wild over us. They can live in their house alone, or be put in a reformatory. We won't have them. We're under no obligations, pecuniary or moral, to look after them."

"I think, Lucien, we might as well go home now. We've had a good rest and a good time, and I am anxious to be back and see how Huldah is getting on."

As Huldah had never mastered two of the three R's, we had not been able to receive any reports from her.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," proposed Beth. "Rob and I will take all the Polydores save Diogenes, and go home tomorrow and prepare the house and Huldah for the overflow. Then you two can come on with Diogenes the next day."

"Good idea, Beth!" I approved. "I'd hate to face Huldah, unprepared, with the return of the Polydores en masse."

"I am glad," said Silvia, "that Huldah has been having a rest from them for a few days."



CHAPTER XVII

All About Uncle Issachar's Visit

The next morning's stage carried seven passengers to Windy Creek, as Miss Frayne with a big roll of "copy" also took her departure.

Diogenes had been quite docile and amenable to my rule since the licking I gave him, so we had a pleasant and comfortable return journey on the following day.

"I hope, Lucien," said Silvia, "you won't refuse to cash this check for a good amount. The Polydore parents may never show up, and it's only right we should be reimbursed for their keep."

"I will cash it," I assured her, "and use it for a housekeeper or else send the boys off to a school. I should like very much to have it out with Felix Polydore, but, as you suggest, I may never have the opportunity to see him at close range."

Beth, Rob, and Ptolemy met us at the station.

"Where are 'Them Three'?" I asked hopefully.

"Huldah is feeding them little pies hot from the kettle—the kind she cooks like doughnuts, you know."

"Huldah cooking for 'Them Three'!" I exclaimed. "She must have passed into her second childhood. She grudged them even an apple to piece on."

"She has pampered them ever since our return," said Rob.

"Poor Huldah! She must indeed be afflicted with softening of the brain," I decided.

"She has probably been so lonely, shut in here by herself," said Silvia, "that even 'Them Three' looked good to her."

In the hallway Huldah met us. She was beaming with pleasure, but except in her bearing toward the children, she was quite normal.

"We've all had a real good rest," she observed, "and you do look so well, Mrs. Wade. My! but this place has been lonesome. I'm glad we're all together again."

"Now, Silvia, shut your eyes," directed Beth, "and come into the library. Ptolemy has bought you a present with the check his father gave him."

"Beth helped me pick it out," said Ptolemy.

Beth led the way into the library, and we followed.

"Open your eyes."

Silvia gave a little cry of pleasure, and looking over her shoulder, I beheld a baby grand piano.

"Oh, Ptolemy!" she cried, giving him a fervent kiss and fond hug, "I can never let you do so much."

"Oh, yes," he said, flushing a little under the endearments which were doubtless the first ever bestowed upon him. "Father's got a whole lot of money grandpa left him and it's fixed so he can't draw out only so much each year. He said the board and bother of us was worth more than this and we'll all enjoy the music. But Thag and Em and Dem ain't to touch it. I'll knock tar out of the first one that comes near it."

I was disconsolate. I didn't see how we could return it and I didn't want the Polydore web woven any tighter. To think of Silvia's receiving from them what it had been my longing to give her! But as I was to learn later, she was to acquire much more than a piano from the eminent family.

After dinner Silvia asked Huldah to come in and hear the music, and when Silvia's repertoire was exhausted, we gave our faithful servant all the little details of our trip which Beth had not supplied.

"Now tell us, Huldah, how things went along here," said Silvia.

"Well, you think some wonderful things happened to you all on your trip mebby—ghosts and proposals," looking at Beth and Rob, "and fires and Polydores, but back here in this quiet house something happened that has your ghosts and things skinned by a mile."

"Oh, dear!" cried Silvia apprehensively, "what is it?"

"Break it very gently, Huldah," I cautioned. "You know we've borne a good deal."

"Your uncle Issachar was here for a couple of days."

She certainly had made a sensation.

"Not Uncle Issachar! Not here?" exclaimed Silvia incredulously.

"Yes, ma'am. He came the next day after Beth and Mr. Rossiter and Polly left. I told him you'd gone away for a little vacation and rest. I didn't let on that I knew where you had gone, because I didn't want him straggling up there, too, or sending for you to come back. He said your absence would make no difference to his plans; that he never let nothing do that. He come to pay a visit and he should pay one."

"Yes," said Silvia feebly. "That sounds like Uncle Issachar."

"I told him to make himself perfectly at home; that every one did that to this place, and he said he would. I'd just slicked up the big front room upstairs and I seen to it that he had everything all right. I cooked the best dinner I knew how, and he said it was the first white man's meal he had eat since his ma died, so I found out what she used to cook and fed him on it. Them three kids and him eat like they was holler. I guess if Polly hadn't took them away your grocery bill would 'a looked like Barb'ry Allen's grave.

"Well, as I was saying, your uncle he eat till he got over his grouches, and like enough he'd be here eating yet, if he hadn't got a telegraph to hit the line for home, some big business deal, he said, and I guess it was a great deal, for he licked his chops and smacked his lips over it, and he give me a ten dollar bill to get a new dress and each of Them Three one dollar fer candy."

"The old tightwad!" I exclaimed. "It was your cooking, sure, that made him loosen up that way."

"Tightwad nothing!" she declared indignantly. "You won't think he was tight-wadded when you read this here letter he left for you. He told me what was in it, and I've just been busting to tell it to Beth, but I waited for you to know it first."

With great excitement Silvia opened the letter, read it, gasped, re-read it, and then in consternation handed it to me.

"Read it aloud, Lucien," she bade. "Maybe I can believe it then."

This was the letter.

"My dear Niece:

"I was sorry not to see you, but glad to learn that, as every wise and good woman should do, you are raising a fine family—a family of sons, which is what our country most needs. Your son Pythagoras informed me that you had taken your oldest child, Ptolemy, and your youngest, Diogenes, with you, I am glad you left three such promising samples for me to see.

"As you have five sons, I have, agreeable to my promise, placed in your name in the First National Bank of your city the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars.

"Your affectionate uncle, "Issachar Innes."

"Huldah," I asked, "did you tell him the Polydores were our children?"

"Me?" she repeated indignantly. "Me tell a lie like that! No; I didn't get no chance to tell him anything about them. 'Them Three' done the telling. The first thing that one"—pointing to Pythagoras—"said was, 'Mudder went away and took the baby, Diogenes, with her.' And then that next one"—indicating Emerald—"said: 'Yes, and our oldest brother, Ptolemy, went on with Beth to see them.'

"The old gent asked them all their names and ages and he was so pleased and said he thought it was just fine for you to raise five sons, so I didn't have no heart to tell him no different. 'Twan't none of my business anyhow. Then 'Them Three' kept talking about stepdaddy, and your Uncle Issachar asks 'Who the devil is he? Did my niece marry again?' And I told him as how Mr. Wade was all the husband you ever had, and that stepdaddy was nothing but a sort of pet-name the kids had give Mr. Wade."

"I told him," said Demetrius, "that stepdaddy was cross to us sometimes and not as nice as mudder, and he said—"

"You shut up," commanded Huldah quickly, "and let me talk."

"No," I intercepted, "I'd really be interested in hearing what he told Uncle Issachar. What was it, Demetrius, that your great-uncle said to you?"

"He said," stated the imp, darting his tongue out in triumph at his victory over Huldah, "that he always thought you was a stiff."

"He didn't say nothing of the kind!" declared Huldah. "He said you was stiff-necked, and that he presumed you would act more like a stepfather than the real thing. Well, as I was saying, he asked their names, and he liked them fine. Said they were so classy."

"Didn't he say classic, Huldah?" inquired Rob.

"Mebby. What's the difference?" snapped Huldah.

"None," I assured her quickly, dodging a definition.

"She told him—" began Emerald.

"You shut up," again adjured Huldah, "or I'll never bake you one of those small pies no more."

"Oh, please, Huldah," I coaxed. "Let us hear everything. I've always told you my life's secrets, and I don't mind what you or the boys told him."

"Well, I suppose what he was going to tattle was that I thought the old gent might feel hurt, 'cause none of them was named after him, so I told him Polly's middle name was Issachar."

"Why, Huldah," remonstrated Silvia.

"Well, he's always wanted a middle name, and he's never been baptized, so you can stick it in and have him ducked next Sunday and then that will square that. 'Them Three' stuck to him like a hive of bees, and I was scairt for fear they'd let the cat out of the bag, and so long as they had put it in, I thought it might just as well stay in, but they were just as slick as grease in all they said. They'll hang in that rogues' gallery yet."

"I suppose they were pretty—strenuous," said Silvia with a sigh.

"They was more than that. The first afternoon right after dinner when he was sitting on the front porch, sleeping peaceful and snoring, that there one—" pointing to Pythagoras—

"Tattle-tale!" he began, but I administered a cuff and he subsided into surprised silence.



"He," said Huldah, looking pleased at this little attention to the boy, "went to the front window and dropped a young kitten down on the old gent's head. It clawed something fierce. We had just got things going smooth again when Emmy got one of his earaches. I roasted an onion and put in his ear, and what did he do but take it out of his ear and slip it down your poor uncle's back."

"Why didn't you beat them?" I asked indignantly.

"Because the old gent did that. He put 'em across his knee, and believe me, it was some licking they caught. They didn't let out a whimper and that pleased him."

"Huh!" said Emerald. "Thag don't know how to cry. He hasn't got any tears, and old Uncle Iz didn't hurt me, because, you see, when I heard Thag getting his, I went and stuffed the Declaration of Independence, that book of stepdaddy's that Demetrius tore the pictures out of, in my pants."

"Go on!" urged Rob delightedly. "What else did you all do? Uncle must have had some time. It would make a fine scenario. 'The first visit of the rich uncle.'"

"Well," resumed Huldah. "One of 'em put red pepper in the old man's bed, and he like to sneeze his head off, but he said as how sneezing was healthy, and showed you'd got rid of a cold."

"He never got on to the pepper," said Demetrius gleefully.

"In the morning, that second one put a toad in his new uncle's pocket, and Emmy broke his specs. Then Meetie he dropped his watch. They used his razor to cut the lawn with. And then they took him down to the creek to go fishing, and they put the fish in Uncle's silk hat, and and——"

"Stop!" implored Silvia, who was now in tears. "Uncle Issachar believes them mine! Ours! And that I brought them up! Oh, why did we ever go away?"

"Oh, pshaw," exclaimed Huldah comfortingly, "he said you had brung them up fine; that they were no mollycoddles or Lizzie boys, and he didn't suppose you had so much sense as to leave them natural."

"A left-handed one for mudder," laughed Beth.

"He must be a very peculiar man—ready for the asylum, I should say," commented Rob.

"He would have been if he'd stayed any longer, or else I would have been," declared Huldah.

"Couldn't you make them behave, someway?" asked Silvia.

"Well, at first I tried to, and every time I pinched one of 'em when the old gent wasn't looking, or knocked 'em down when I got 'em alone, they would threaten to tell who they was, and then when I seen how your uncle liked the way they acted, I just let 'em go it, head on. And seeing as how they each brung you five thousand, I've treated 'em best I know how. They're worth it, now. They done one thing more that was awful. Could you stand it to hear?" turning to Silvia.

"Please, Silvia," implored Rob.

"Well," argued Silvia faintly. "I suppose we might as well know the worst."

"You see the old gent didn't always get up to breakfast with the kids and one morning when I brought in the cakes Emmy looked up and grinned. I nearly dropped the plate. He had both sets of the old man's false teeth in his mouth. I got 'em back in his room without his waking, but I'd have liked a picture of Emmy."

"Pythagoras," I demanded, when we had recovered from this recital, "why didn't you tell him who you were, and how you all came to be here with us?"

"Because she is our mudder, and we are going to stay with her, always. We've got a snap. So has father and mother. And Ptolemy told us that if you ever got any kids, you'd get five thousand each for them, and I thought we'd just make that much for you. So we played Uncle Iz for it. Easy money, all right, all right."

"Talk about fine financiering," quoth Rob. "'Them Three' will surely land on Wall Street."

But poor Silvia had no heart for humor and was weeping silently.

"Why, look here, my dear," I said in consolation, "this is a very simple matter to adjust. In the morning when you feel better, just write a full explanation of the affair and inclose your check for twenty-five thousand."