he figure sat cross-legged like a tailor and in
one hand held what seemed to be a bronze water lily. Hortense had never
seen an image or statue that seemed so calm, as though thinking deep
thoughts which it would never trouble to express.

"What a funny little man," said Hortense.

Grandfather looked gravely at the bronze figure.

"That is an image of Buddha, the Indian god," he said. "Perhaps after
dinner I'll tell you a story about him."

He lifted Hortense from his knee and, taking her by the hand, went into
Grandmother's room.

Mary had brought in the tea wagon, which Hortense thought looked like a
dwarf. Indeed, all the furniture seemed curiously alive, as though it
could talk if it would. In the corner was a lowboy. With the firelight
falling on its polished surface and on the bright brass handles to its
drawers, it seemed to make a fat smiling face, as of a good-humored
boy.

"What a jolly face," Hortense thought. "He'd be good fun to play with,
I'm sure."

She ate her toast and cake while Grandfather and Grandmother talked
together in the twilight. And the darker the room grew, the more it
seemed alive.

"I believe all these things are talking," said Hortense to herself.
"Now, if I could only hear! Perhaps if I had an ear trumpet or
something----"

As she was thinking thus, a great tortoise-shell cat walked calmly in,
seated himself on the hearth-rug, and stared into the fire. It seemed
to Hortense that the flredogs fairly leaped out at him, but the cat
only gazed placidly at them.

"He knows they can't get at him," thought Hortense, "and he's saying
something to make them mad."

Grandfather and Grandmother were talking in a low tone, and Hortense
suddenly found herself listening to them with interest.

"Uncle Jonah says it's a 'ha'nt,'" Grandfather was saying with a smile.
"He and Esmerelda are afraid and want me to fix up the rooms over the
stable."

"What nonsense!" Grandmother exclaimed sharply.

"But there is something odd about the house, you know," said
Grandfather.

"I believe that you think it's a ghost yourself, Keith," said
Grandmother, looking keenly at him.

"I've always wanted to see a ghost," admitted Grandfather, "but I've
had no luck. Why shouldn't there be ghosts? All simple peoples believe
in them."

"Remember Hortense," Grandmother said in a low voice.

"To be sure," Grandfather answered, looking quickly at Hortense.

Hortense heard with all her ears, but her eyes w