Sallie Tom pushed open the door, and they all entered. The long, low-pitched room with its four dormer windows, stretched out into huge weird dimensions as they stood silently for a moment looking around, and then the men slipped farther in. Sallie Tom followed and held her lamp high in hand, and the light fell so as to cause the opening to the loft to be cast in such a shadow that it could not be distinguished from the rest of the wall. All around the room were great packing-trunks and cases, and from ropes stretched from side to side hung various pieces of old clothing and bed covering. The room was completely dark save for the stream of light cast by the lamp, and a gruesome, uncanny feeling crept over them all, as the men wandered around the room, poking behind this and that, and turning over old broken chairs and odd bits of furniture. Anne touched Dorothy on the arm and pointed to a sheet near by. “Let’s frighten them,” she whispered. “I’m positive that little yellow-haired thing smells a rat; he’ll find that hole in the wall yet.” Dorothy nodded and clutched Sallie Tom by the dress. She pointed to Anne, who was softly drawing the sheet towards her. “Playing ghost!” she muttered under her breath; “you shriek and run with the lamp.” Dorothy walked over to the two officers and began to talk. “This used to be our happy hunting-ground when we were children,” she began; “we always played up here on rainy days, and such dressing in antique garments I am sure you have never seen—unless,” she added, politely, “you had a similar garret to play in.” They were getting dangerously near the entrance to the loft. “We got frightened by what we thought was a ghost once, and we never cared to play here again. What—what, oh, what is that!” she cried, clutching the sleeve of one of the men. A terrific shriek from Sallie Tom, as she rushed wildly down the steps with the lamp, made their blood run cold. “Oh, Lordy, Lord Gord A’mighty!” she yelled, pitching like something wild, on, down, down, until she reached the library. “De ghostes done come like de trumpet bin a’blowed,” she shrieked. “Oh, Lord, don’t mix us up wid dem inturferin’ Yankees. Lord A’mighty, hab mercy on us, dey come a’meddlin’ fust. Oh, Lordy, Lordy!” they could hear her shriek, but fainter and fainter as she neared the room below. The two men turned quickly at the terrific sound of Sallie Tom’s voice, and though the room was inky black save for the dim rays that came from the dormer windows, they saw creeping towards them a flapping, white-winged object. Both of them caught Dorothy with one hand, while with the other they grasped their pistols. A muffled laugh broke from under the sheet, and in a second it was dropped and Anne shook it off gaily. “Now confess you were frightened,” she cried, merrily. “I do believe you were going to shoot me. I didn’t think of that when I put the sheet on, but that is why I dropped it in such a hurry. Did you ever hear such a shriek as Sallie