Six Little Bunkers at Grandpa Fords | Page 7

riddle comes in," said Russ in a whisper to his sister. "We must listen hard now."
"What do you want to find out about Great Hedge, Father?" asked Daddy Bunker. "Do you think you paid too much for it?"
"No, I got it very cheap. But there is something queer about it, and I want to find out if Mr. Ripley can tell me what it is."
"Something queer?" repeated Mrs. Bunker.
"Yes, a sort of mystery," went on Grandpa Ford. "It's a puzzle to me. A riddle I should call it if I were Laddie. By the way, I hope the children don't hear me tell this, or they might be frightened."
"No, they have all gone out to play," said Mrs. Bunker. "They can not hear you."
"So there is something wrong about Great Hedge, is there?" asked Daddy Bunker. "By the way," he went on, "I have never been there, but I suppose it is called that because it has a big hedge around it."
"That is it," said Grandpa Ford. "All around the house, enclosing it like a fence, is a big, thick hedge. It is green and pretty in summer, but bare and brown in the winter. However, it keeps off the north wind, so I rather like it. In the summer it shades the house and makes it cool. Yes, the hedge gives the name to the place.
"But now I must tell you what is queer about it--the mystery or the puzzle. And I don't want you or the children to be alarmed."
"Why should we?" asked Mrs. Bunker.
"Well, most persons are frightened by ghosts," said Grandpa Ford with a laugh.
"Father, you don't mean to tell me you believe in ghosts!" cried Daddy Bunker.
"Of course not!" answered his stepfather. "There aren't any such things as ghosts, and, naturally, I don't believe in them. But I know that some people do, and children might be frightened if they heard the name."
"Do you hear what he says?" whispered Rose to her brother.
"Yes. But I'm not frightened. Are you?"
"Nope. What's a ghost, anyhow, Russ?"
"Oh, it's something white that comes in the dark and scares you."
"Well, it isn't dark now," went on the little girl, "so we're all right. And at night, when it is dark, we go to bed, so I don't guess we'll see any ghost."
"No, I guess not. But listen!"
Grandpa Ford was speaking again.
"Of course I don't believe in ghosts," he said, "and I only use that name, speaking about the queer things at Great Hedge, because I don't know what else to call them. Your mother," he went on to Daddy Bunker, "calls it the same thing. We say the 'ghost' did this or that. In fact we laugh over it and make fun of it. But, all the same, it is very strange and queer, and I should like to have it stopped, or explained."
"Do you think Mr. Ripley can stop it or explain it?" asked Daddy Bunker.
"I should think he could," said Grandpa Ford. "Mr. Ripley owned Great Hedge a long while before he sold it to me. He ought to know all about the queer, big old house, and why there are so many strange noises in it."
"Is the noise the ghost?" asked Mrs. Bunker.
"That's part of it."
"What's the other part?" Daddy Bunker queried.
"Well, it mostly is queer noises," said his stepfather. "I'll tell you how it happened from the very beginning--the first night your mother and I stayed at Great Hedge. It has been going on for some time, and at last I thought I would come on here, see you, have a talk with Mr. Ripley, and then see if we could not clear up the mystery. In fact, I hope you'll go back with me and help me solve the riddle.
"You and your wife and the six little Bunkers. I want you all to come up to Grandpa Ford's. But now I'll finish telling you about the ghost."
"Please do," begged Mother Bunker with a laugh. "I have always liked ghost stories. It is very jolly when one finds out what caused the queer noises and sights. Let's hear about the ghost!"
"All right," went on Grandpa Ford. "I'll tell you about our first night at Great Hedge. It was just about twelve o'clock--midnight--when, all of a sudden----"
At that instant a crash sounded out on the porch.
"Mercy!" cried Mother Bunker. "What can that be?"
She and Daddy Bunker rushed from the room, Grandpa Ford following more slowly.
CHAPTER IV
RUSS MAKES A BALLOON
"What is it? What's the matter?" cried Mother Bunker as she opened a door leading on to the porch, where she had heard the crashing noise. Those were the first things the mother of the six little Bunkers always asked whenever anything unusual happened.
"What is the matter?" she cried.
Then she saw. Lying on the porch, under the hammock, was