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Page 90
"What next?" thought I, wondering whether this eventful night would ever
come to a close.
I sat and waited, chilly but brave, while the strange sounds went on
within the house and silence reigned without, till the cheerful crow of
the punctual "cockadoo," as Margie called him, told me that it was
sunrise and laid the ghosts.
A red glow in the east drove away my last fear, and I soon lay down and
slept quietly, quite worn out.
The sun shining upon my face waked me, and a bell ringing warned me to
hurry. A childish voice calling out, "Betfast is most weady, Miss Wee,"
assured me that sweet little spirits haunted the cottage as well as
ghostly ones.
As I left my room to join Margie, who was waiting for me, I saw two
things which caused me to feel that the horrors of the night were not
all unreal.
Just outside the back bed-room door was a damp place, as if that part of
the floor had been newly washed; and when led by curiosity, I peeped
through the keyhole of the haunted chamber, my eye distinctly saw an
open razor lying on a dusty table.
My seeing was limited to that one object, but it was quite enough. I
went up the hill thinking over the terrible secret hidden in my breast.
I longed to tell some one, but was ashamed; and, when asked why I was so
pale and absent-minded, I answered with a gloomy smile--
"It is the clams."
All day I hid my sufferings pretty well, but as night approached and I
thought of sleeping again in that haunted cottage, my heart began to
fail. As we sat telling stories in the dusk, a bright idea came into my
head.
I would relate my ghost story, and rouse the curiosity of my hearers, so
that some of them would offer to stay at the cottage in hopes of seeing
the spirit of the restless Tucker.
Cheered by this fancy, when my turn came I made a thrilling tale about
Bezee Tucker and my night's adventure. After my hearers were worked up
to a proper state of excitement, I paused for applause.
It came in a most unexpected form, however, for Mrs. Grant burst out
laughing, and the two boys--Johnny and Joe--rolled about in convulsions
of merriment.
Much displeased, I demanded the cause of their laughter, and then joined
in the general shout when Mrs. Grant informed me that Bezee Tucker
lived, died in, and haunted the tumble-down house at the other end of
the lane, and not the cottage where I was staying.
"Then who or what made those mysterious noises?" I asked, relieved but
rather displeased at the downfall of my romance.
"My brother Seth," replied Mrs. Grant, still laughing. "I thought you
might be afraid to be there all alone, so he slipped into the bed-room,
and I forgot to tell you. He's a powerful snorer, and that's one of the
awful sounds.
"The other was the dripping of salt water; for you wanted some, and the
girl got it in a leaky pail. Seth swept out the water when he left the
cottage early in the morning."
I said nothing about having seen through the keyhole the harmless razor;
but wishing to get some praise for my heroic encounter with the burglar,
I mildly asked if it was the custom in York for men as well as turkeys
to roost in trees.
Another burst of laughter from the boys did away with my last hope of
glory. As soon as he could speak, Joe answered--
"Johnny planned to be up early to pick the last cherries off that tree.
I wanted to get ahead of him, and as I was going a-fishing, I went off
quietly before daylight."
"Did you get the cherries?" I asked, bound to have some laugh on my
side.
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