dren to be alarmed."

"Why should we?" asked Mrs. Bunker.

"Well, most persons are frightened by _ghosts_," said Grandpa Ford with
a laugh.

"Father, you don't mean to tell me you believe in _ghosts_!" cried Daddy
Bunker.

"Of course not!" answered his stepfather. "There aren't any such things
as ghosts, and, naturally, I don't believe in them. But I know that some
people do, and children might be frightened if they heard the name."

"Do you hear what he says?" whispered Rose to her brother.

"Yes. But I'm not frightened. Are you?"

"Nope. What's a ghost, anyhow, Russ?"

"Oh, it's something white that comes in the dark and scares you."

"Well, it isn't dark now," went on the little girl, "so we're all right.
And at night, when it is dark, we go to bed, so I don't guess we'll see
any ghost."

"No, I guess not. But listen!"

Grandpa Ford was speaking again.

"Of course I don't believe in ghosts," he said, "and I only use that
name, speaking about the queer things at Great Hedge, because I don't
know what else to call them. Your mother," he went on to Daddy Bunker,
"calls it the same thing. We say the 'ghost' did this or that. In fact
we laugh over it and make fun of it. But, all the same, it is very
strange and queer, and I should like to have it stopped, or explained."

"Do you think Mr. Ripley can stop it or explain it?" asked Daddy Bunker.

"I should think he could," said Grandpa Ford. "Mr. Ripley owned Great
Hedge a long while before he sold it to me. He ought to know all about
the queer, big old house, and why there are so many strange noises in
it."

"Is the noise the ghost?" asked Mrs. Bunker.

"That's part of it."

"What's the other part?" Daddy Bunker queried.

"Well, it mostly is queer noises," said his stepfather. "I'll tell you
how it happened from the very beginning--the first night your mother and
I stayed at Great Hedge. It has been going on for some time, and at last
I thought I would come on here, see you, have a talk with Mr. Ripley,
and then see if we could not clear up the mystery. In fact, I hope
you'll go back with me and help me solve the riddle.

"You and your wife and the six little Bunkers. I want you all to come up
to Grandpa Ford's. But now I'll finish telling you about the ghost."

"Please do," begged Mother Bunker with a laugh. "I have always liked
ghost stories. It is very jolly when one finds out what caused the queer
noises and sights. Let's hear about the ghost!"