sounds.

Mrs. van Cannan had laughed her lazy, liquid laugh when Christine
spoke, the first morning after her arrival, of the tapping.

"It was probably a stray ostrich pecking on your shutters," said the
mistress of Blue Aloes. "You are strange to the Karoo, my dear. When
you have been here a month, you'll take no notice of night noises."

There was possibly truth in the prophecy, but Christine doubted it.
There were also moments when she doubted being able to last a week out
at the farm, to say nothing of a month. That was only in the night
watches, however; by day, she found it hard to imagine any
circumstances so unpleasant as to induce her to leave the three little
van Cannan children, who, even in so short a time, had managed to twine
their fingers and their mops of bronze hair round her affections.

The tapping began again, soft and insistent. Christine knew it was not
a branch, for she had taken the trouble to ascertain; and that a stray
ostrich should choose her window to peck at for three nights running
seemed fantastic. Irrelatively, one of the children murmured drowsily
in sleep, and the little human sound braced the girl's nerves. The
sense of loneliness left her, giving place to courageous resolution.
She forgot everything save that she was responsible for the protection
of the children, and determined that the tapping must be investigated,
once and for all. Just as she was stirring, the soft sighing
recommenced close to the shutters, followed by three clear taps.
Christine changed her mind about getting out of bed, but she leaned
toward the window on her elbow, and said, in a low voice that trembled
a little:

"Is any one there?"

A whistling whisper answered her:

"_Take care of the children._"

With the words, a strangely revolting odour came stealing through the
shutters. The girl shrank back, all her fears returning. Yet she
forced herself to speak again.

"Who is it? What do you want?"

"_Mind the boy--take care of the boy,_" sobbed the whistling voice, and
again the foul odour stole into the room. It seemed to Christine the
smell of something dead and rotten and old. She could not bear it.
Hatred of it was greater than fear, and, springing from her bed, she
wrestled with the bolts of the shutters. But when she threw them open
there was--nothing! Darkness stood without like a presence, and seemed
to push against the shutters, trying to enter as she hastily rebarred
them.