youall's going to the old place that I warn ye; it am only caze I's so
afeerd you might. I know there ain't nobody, in their right good senses
as would want their wits scairt clean out of 'em."

"But we don't believe in ghosts, Mammy," argued Madge.

Mammy Ellen peered into Madge's bright face. "Go 'long, child," she
said. "You don't believe in ghosts caze you ain't seen 'em, jest as ye
don't believe in most of the things you's got to find out."

Mammy Ellen bowed courteously to Miss Betsey and the young people as she
walked away from them.

"I do wish we hadn't met that old colored woman, Madge," whispered Phil.
"She makes me feel as though we were intruding on ghosts when we go
prying about their haunts at night."

Every leaf of every tree, every rustling blade of grass, every stirring
breath of the night wind took on a more sinister character as the four
ghost-investigators slipped up the tangled, overgrown path to the house
of mystery.

"We must put out all our lanterns but one," ordered David. "If any one
happens to be walking along the road, we don't wish them to see us
prowling about this place. Besides, we don't want to frighten the
ghosts."

The three women put out the light of their lanterns. David kept his
light, walking in front, with Miss Betsey next and Madge and Phyllis
bringing up the rear. The women clutched at one another's skirts as they
went around and around the dark old house, tumbling over crumbling
bricks and tangled vines. They thought it best to look thoroughly around
the outside of the house for loiterers, whether ghostly or real, before
exploring the inside.

"'Chickamy, chickamy, crainey crow, went to the well to wash her toe!
When she came back her chickens were all gone.' What time is it, old
Witch?" murmured Madge, giving Phil's skirt a wicked pull. Phil fell
back, almost upsetting Miss Betsey, who clutched feverishly at David's
coatsleeve.

"What on earth happened to you, child?" she asked tremulously.

"It was that good-for-nothing Madge's fault," laughed Phyllis.

No one of the party took the first part of their ghost hunt seriously,
but when David reported that the hour was growing late, and that it was
now time for them to enter the old house, a different feeling stole over
each one of them--a kind of curious foreboding of evil, or unhappiness,
or some unexplainable mystery.

"Let's give up and go back, Madge," proposed Phyllis. "The old house is
so musty, dark and ho