"And they have been only here a week!" exclaimed the old lady, by unmitigated astonishment thrown for a moment off her guard. Significant looks and mysterious gestures were the only comments made by the servants upon the subject. And Mrs. Hawkins, thinking it improper to push inquiries in that quarter, sent in her respects and good wishes to Mrs. Manly, and then, without having alighted from her carryall, gave the order to turn the horse's head homeward. You may judge the surprise with which we heard the news of this flitting; but as our grandmother had asked no questions, she could give us no information. Others, however, were not so discreet. Inquiries were made and answered, and soon the news flew all over the country that Mrs. Manly, upon account of the mysterious noises that nightly disturbed her rest, found it impossible to live in the house. The cottage remained idle for some weeks, and then was taken by another family, who stayed ten days, then vanished--whispering the same cause for their abandonment of the premises. The excitement of the neighborhood increased. There was nothing talked of but the haunted house. Large parties visited the spot during daylight, who, after the most curious investigation, found nothing unusual about the looks of the place. But no tenant could be induced to take it, and it remained idle for several weeks, at the end of which time a family from down the country moved up, and reading of this fine place to let, and not knowing its "haunted" reputation, engaged it at once. The name of the newcomers was Ferguson. The neighborhood waited the event in deep interest. Upon the day after their settlement at the cottage, as we were just about to sit down to our very early breakfast, there was a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of a good-looking, motherly, colored woman, who announced herself as "Aunt Hannah, ole Marse Josh Ferguson's 'oman," and stood waiting. "Well, Hannah, you look tired--sit down on that stool and let us know how we can do you good," said Mrs. Hawkins. "Thanky, mist'ess--no time to sit, honey; 'deed I hasn't--I come to see if you would 'form me where I could buy a little drap o' cream, for ole marse coffee. Our cows; hasn't riv' from below yet." "You cannot buy cream at all in this neighborhood, but I will supply your master, with great pleasure, until his cows come home." "Thanky, mist'ess! thanky, honey! I 'cepts of it wid all de comfort in life! An' if so be you-dem wants any plums, or pears, or squinches, for 'serves, we'd s'ply you in like manner." After this Aunt Hannah came every morning for her pitcher of cream. One morning I overheard her talking with Cassy in the kitchen. "How you dew likes your new place?" inquired Cassy. "Hush, honey!" exclaimed the other, with an air of deep mystery. "Lord! 'deed, now?" whispered Cassy. "Trufe I'm telling you!" replied Hannah. "Do any one sturve you o' nights?" "Hush, honey!" "Who?" "Dead people."