countenance with its
half-dozen eyes. The strings of red pepper-pods and gourds and herbs,
swinging from the rafters, rustled faintly; it sounded to Si like a
moan.

He wished his father and mother would talk about some wholesome subject,
like Spot's new calf, for instance, instead of whispering about the
mystery of Old Daddy's Window.

He wished Tad would not look, as he listened, so much like a ghost
himself, with his starting eyes and pale, intent face. He even wished
that the baby would wake up, and put some life into things with a good
healthy, rousing bawl.

But the baby slept peacefully on, and after so long a time Si Creyshaw
slept too.

With broad daylight his courage revived. He was no longer afraid to
think of the ghost. In fact, he experienced a pleased importance in
giving Old Daddy a minute account of the wonderful apparition, for he
_felt_ as if he had seen it.

"'Pears ter me toler'ble comical, gran'dad, ez they never tole ye a word
'bout'n it all," he said in conclusion. "Ye mought hev liked ter seen
the harnt. Ef he war 'quainted with ye when he lived in this life, he
mought hev stopped an' jowed sociable fur a spell!"

How brave this small boy was in the cheerful sunshine!

Old Daddy hardly seemed impressed with the pleasure he had missed in
losing a sociable "jow" with a ghostly crony. He sat silent, blinking
in the sunshine that fell through the gourd-vines which clambered about
the porch where Si had placed his chair.

"'Twarn't much of a sizable sperit," Si declared; he seemed courageous
enough now to measure the ghost like a tailor. "It warn't more'n four
feet high, ez nigh ez dad could jedge. Toler'ble small fur a harnt!"

Still the old man made no reply. His wrinkled hands were clasped on his
stick. His white head, shaded by his limp black hat, was bent down close
to them. There was a slow, pondering expression on his face, but an
excited gleam in his eye. Presently, he pointed backward toward a little
unhewn log shanty that served as a barn, and rising with unwonted
alacrity, he said to the boy,--

"Fotch me the old beastis!"

Silas Creyshaw stood amazed, for Old Daddy had not mounted a horse for
twenty years.

"Studyin' 'bout'n the harnt so much hev teched him in the head," the
small boy concluded. Then he made an excuse, for he knew his
grandfather was too old and feeble to safely undertake a solitary jaunt
on horse-back.

"I war tole not ter leave ye fur a minit, gran'dad.