held his breath for a minute; then he looked round the table in a
frightened way, and the next minute gave a scream and burst into tears.
He ran round and buried his face in his father's arms.

After the tears came the truth. It was a bad thing for Miss Ethel Lake,
this little sighing of the wind and the ivy leaves, for the Djin of
terror she had thoughtlessly evoked swept into the room and introduced
himself to the parents without her leave.

"What new nonsense is this now?" growled the soldier, leaving his
walnuts and lifting the boy on to his knee. "He shouldn't come down till
he's a little older, and knows how to behave."

"What's the matter, darling child?" asked the mother, drying his eyes
tenderly.

"I heard the bad Things crying in the Empty House."

"The Empty House is a mile away from here!" snorted the Colonel.

"Then it's come nearer," declared the frightened boy.

"Who told you there were bad things in the Empty House?" asked the
mother.

"Yes, who told you, indeed, I should like to know!" demanded the
Colonel.

And then it all came out. The Colonel's wife was very quiet, but very
determined. Miss Lake went back to the clerical family whence she had
come, and the children knew her no more.

"I'm glad," said Nixie, expressing the verdict of the nursery. "I
thought she was awfully stupid."

"She wasn't a real lake at all," declared another, "she was only a sort
of puddle."

Jimbo, however, said little, and the Colonel likewise held his peace.

But the governess, whether she was a lake or only a puddle, left her
mark behind her. The Empty House was no longer harmless. It had a new
lease of life. It was tenanted by some one who could never have friendly
relations with children. The weeds in the old garden took on fantastic
shapes; figures hid behind the doors and crept about the passages; the
rooks in the high elms became birds of ill-omen; the ivy bristled upon
the walls, and the trivial explanations of the gardener were no longer
satisfactory.

Even in bright sunshine a Shadow lay crouching upon the broken roof. At
any moment it might leap into life, and with immense striding legs chase
the children down to the very Park gates.

There was no need to enforce the decree that the Empty House was a
forbidden land. The children of their own accord declared it out of
bounds, and avoided it as carefully as if all the wild animals from the
Zoo were roaming its gardens, hungry and unchained.