Six Little Bunkers at Grandpa Fords | Page 7

all right to listen to it," agreed
Rose.
So the two eldest Bunker children crouched down on the side porch,
under the dining-room windows, and listened to the talk that was going
on inside. Of course this was not right, but they did not know any better,
especially after Grandpa Ford spoke about a "riddle."
And so it came about that Rose and Russ heard what it was not
intended they should hear.
"You know," went on Grandpa Ford, as Russ and Rose listened outside,
"that I bought Great Hedge Estate from a Mr. James Ripley, who lives
near here."
"Yes, I know that," said Daddy Bunker. "Well, you like it, don't you,
Father?"
"Quite well. Your mother likes it, too. It is a large farm, as you know,
and there is a big stretch of woods, as well as land where I can raise
fruits and vegetables. There are meadows for grazing, and fields for
corn, hay and oats. Great Hedge is a fine place, and your mother and I
like it there very much.
"We were a bit lonesome, at first, as it is large, but we hope to get over
that part in a little while.
"What brought me down here is to see Mr. Ripley, and find out
something about the place he sold me. I must find out something about
Great Hedge."
"Here is where the 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,