Part 11 (2/2)

The hotel was dark, save for a light in my room. I invited him in, but he was anxious to ”git hum and tell the folks”, so I gave him some cigars and went in to ”tell my folks.”

I found them in the room waiting for me. That is, Beth was in the room, sitting by the table and pretending to read. Silvia and Rob were out in the little balcony. They came inside as soon as they heard my voice.

”Oh, was he there?” asked Silvia anxiously.

”Yes,” I replied. ”He answered the telephone himself.”

I was feeling quite exhilarated by this time. My wife looked a perfect vision to me. Beth, I thought, was some sister, and Rob the best fellow in the world. Even the Polydores at long range, and under the ameliorating influence of stone fences, seemed like fine little fellows--rather active and strenuous, to be sure, but only as all wholesome children should be.

Silvia was relieved at the announcement of Ptolemy's safety, but very much disappointed that I did not succeed in interviewing Huldah and finding out something about domestic affairs.

I a.s.sured her that everything was ”hunky doory” at home, praised the telephone service, my expedition to town, and painted my return ride with ”the honest farmer” in glowing terms. I was suddenly halted in my eulogy by becoming aware of an amazed expression on my wife's countenance, a most suspicious glance in Beth's wide-open eyes, and a very knowing wink from Rob.

”Lucien,” said Silvia severely, ”I believe you've been drinking. I certainly smell spirits.”

”Maybe you do,” I replied jocosely. ”I certainly saw spirits. I went to the haunted house on my way back.”

”I thought Windy Creek was a dry town,” remarked Rob innocently.

”It is,” I a.s.sured him, ”but I rode home with an old man--a farmer.”

”Does he run a blind pig?” asked Rob.

”It was more like a pig in a poke,” I replied.

”Lucien,” exclaimed Silvia reproachfully, ”you told me two years ago, after that banquet to the Bar, that you were never going to touch wine or whisky again. What did that horrid old man give you?”

”A stone fence. That's what he said it was anyway.”

”It's a new one on me,” commented Rob.

”There was a new toast went with it. He drank to 'over the moon.'”

”You must have gone there all right and taken all the s.h.i.+ne from the moon-man,” said Rob.

”Lucien,” asked Beth, ”did you really go to that haunted house?”

Again I was moved to eloquence, and I told of the farmer's yearning, the fulfillment, the beckoning hand and the beating of the retreat at length.

”Are you sure,” asked Rob, ”that you didn't take that stone fence before you visited the haunted house?”

”I know,” I replied, loftily, ”that a lawyer's word is worthless, but seeing is believing. We will all visit the haunted house tomorrow night and I'll make good on ghosts.”

This plan was unanimously approved, and then Silvia suggested that she thought I had better go to bed. I had no particular objection to doing so.

”Lucien,” she said solemnly, when we were alone, ”I want you to promise me something. I want you to give me your word that you will never take another stone wall.”

I did this most readily.

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