A little youngster scarce four years old, was playing under the tree. Tom helped himself to some apples as was his wont, and speaking cheerily to the boy, learned that his name was "Jackie." A stick of candy from Tom's pocket was greedily accepted by Jackie. Tom was feeling blue that day thinking of his father from whom had come no word, of his mother and sister, and his old home. He wandered on unobservant of the fact that it was growing dark, and that a storm was fast approaching. He was suddenly called to a sense of his surroundings by hearing a cry behind him, and turning back saw that little Jackie was dogging his footsteps. The youngster was tired out now, and wanted "home and mother," so Tom spoke a soothing word or two and they commenced to retrace their footsteps. He noted now that the storm was soon to break, and Jackie was too tired to hurry, so he gathered the little fellow into his strong arms, and made fast time for home. By the time they had reached the apple tree it was quite dark. Large drops of rain, the roar of thunder, and the glare of lightning told Tom that he was none too soon. He ran through the unkempt garden, and was quickly at the door. A sinister looking place it was even in daylight, and now revealed by an occasional lightning flash, the house seemed but a wreck of former stateliness. Not a light was visible within, and to Tom's loud and hurried rappings on the door, there was no response. A flash of lightning however, showed Tom that the door was unlatched, and with the rain now descending in torrents, he hesitated no longer, but stepped within. There was a rush of wind, a rattle of shutters, a deafening peal of thunder as if close at hand, and with a crash the great door suddenly closed. It did not take Tom long to determine that he and his little charge were alone in a deserted mansion. "Is this your home, Jackie?" inquired Tom. The little fellow whom Tom had placed upon the floor was thoroughly terrified, and could only grasp his answer. "It is the haunted house, let me go home." "Nonsense, Jackie, don't be afraid, but where is your home?" Meantime Tom had turned about and was searching for the handle of the great door. There was none. It had been broken off, and this means of egress was unavailable. "Let's see if we can find a window," suggested Tom, but Jackie clung closer to his rescuer and began to cry wildly. "There is a ghost, it's coming," shrieked the little fellow. Tom looked along the depth of the long hall, and at first saw nothing, then at the next flash of lightning he was startled to see two green and glaring eyes fixed upon him. No thought of such a thing as a ghost entered his mind, he was far too sensible for that, and had no fear of spirits. If they were good spirits, he argued, of course they would not hurt, if they were bad, he might hurt them. He was for advancing at once to investigate, but his little charge clung to him in desperate terror.