bout of something on the bare boards of
the floor of the loft over the kitchen.

"O-oh!" squealed Amy, jumping up from the table.

"What _can_ it be?" demanded Jessie Norwood, and her face expressed
fear likewise.

Henrietta took another enormous bite of sandwich; from behind that
barrier she said in a muffled tone:

"Guess it's the Carter ha'nt after all!"

HENRIETTA IS VALIANT

THE PRIZE IDEA

CHAPTER IX

HENRIETTA IS VALIANT

Jessie Norwood tried to remember that she should set little Henrietta
a good example. She should not show panic because of the mysterious
noise in the loft of the abandoned Carter house.

But as the thrashing sounds continued and finally the cause of it came
tumbling down the enclosed stairway and bumped against the door that
opened from the kitchen upon that stairway, Jessie screamed almost as
loud as Amy.

Amy Drew, however, ran out into the rain. Neither Jessie nor the
little freckle-faced girl were garbed properly for an appearance in
the open; not even in as lonely a place as the clearing about the old
Carter house. To tell the truth, Henrietta kept on eating and did not
at first get up from the table.

"Aren't you scared, child?" demanded Jessie, in surprise.

"Course I am," agreed the little girl. "But ha'nts chase you anywhere.
They can go right through keyholes and doors----"

"Mercy! Whatever it is seems determined to come through that door."

"There ain't no keyhole to it," said Henrietta complacently.

The banging continued at the foot of the stairs. Amy was shrieking for
her chum to come out of the house. But Jessie began to be ashamed of
her momentary panic.

"I'm going to see what it is," she declared, approaching the door.

"Maybe you won't see nothing," said Henrietta. "Mrs. Foley says that
ha'nts is sometimes just wind. You don't see nothing. Only you feel
creepy and cold fingers touch you and a chilly breath hits the back o'
your neck."

"I declare!" exclaimed Jessie. "That Mrs. Foley ought not to tell you
such things."

She looked about for some weapon, for the sounds behind the door
panels seemed to suggest something very material. There was a long
hardwood stick standing in the corner. It might have been a mop handle
or something of the kind. Jessie seized it, and with more courage
again walked toward the door.

Bang, bang, thump! the noise was repeated. She stretched a tentative
hand toward the latch. Should she lift it? Was there