“Why, Mr. Rossmore!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnell, as she and the girls came up, “are you moving?” “Yes, ma’am, and I can’t git away any too soon.” “Where are you going?” asked Mabel. “Over on Mr. Applebaum’s farm. It was his wife that the Gypsies robbed of a pocket-book,” he added. “I’m going to live with him. He’s a sort of second cousin of mine.” “Then you’re going to desert the dear old mill.” “Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t stay here another night—not if you was to give me fifty dollars—yes or seventy-five dollars. No, sir!” “Why, what is the trouble?” asked Natalie, yet by instinct she seemed to anticipate the answer. “The hant; that’s what the matter. It’s gittin’ wuss. I wouldn’t stay here another night. I’m done!” “The hant,” repeated Marie, not quite understanding. “He means the haunt,” exclaimed Mabel in a whisper. “Oh!” “Yes, ma’am—the ghost,” went on Old Hanson. “Th’ hant. It’s drove me out, and I never thought it would. I thought I could stand most anything, but it’s got terrible bad lately.” “How—what does er—it—do?” faltered Mrs. Bonnell. Somehow, it seemed rather uncanny to talk about the matter. “Oh, it goes on something terrible!” exclaimed the old hermit. “Groans and cryin’ in the middle of the night, an’ movin’ about—takin’ things——” “Taking things?” “Yep—lots of my things has disappeared—my blankets and some of my grub—I ain’t goin’ t’ stand it; I’m movin’!” “Does—it—really groan?” asked Mabel, and she could not repress a shiver. “Yes, ma’am, it do. An’ cries, too. I heard it all last night, an’ I couldn’t sleep. And when I go in the old mill day-times, something like a cold wind brushes past me.” “Maybe it _is_ a cold wind,” suggested Alice. “I’m sure the old place must be draughty enough.” “It wa’n’t no wind,” affirmed the old man, as he piled a chair on top of his scanty belongings in the wagon. The other—evidently a hired man—did not talk, except to the horses. “So I’m goin’ t’ pull out,” went on Old Hanson. “Th’ mill’s mine—sech as ’tis—but the hant can have it if it wants it. I’ve got no use fer it. I want t’ sleep in peace nights. Sech groans—sech cries—you never heard th’ like.” Something like a cold chill seemed to pass over the girls as they looked up at the old mill. And then Natalie set their nerves more in a flutter by suddenly exclaiming: “There! Look there! At the upper window. I’m sure I saw a face!” CHAPTER XXII UNSEEN VISITORS The girls clung to one another, after their first few frightened screams of dismay, and then Mrs. Bonnell exclaimed: “Oh, Natalie! How could you? To frighten us so!” “I didn’t mean to. But really I did see something at the window.” “Probably a rag fluttering in the wind,” spoke Alice. “Maybe,” assented Natalie, with a nervous glance at the broken casement. “And yet do fluttering rags have dark eyes, that look hopelessly at you?” “Did you see that?” demanded Mabel. “I—I think I did.”