“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 Russ.  He was huddled in a heap, and he was doing his best not to cry.  Mrs. Bunker could tell that by the way his face was wrinkled up.  Near him stood Rose, and she looked startled.

“What’s the matter?” repeated Mrs. Bunker.  “Are you hurt, Russ?”

“No’m—­that is, not very much.  I—­I fell out of the hammock.”

“Yes, I see you did.  What made you?  Did you swing too high?  I’ve told you not to do that.”

“What does it all mean?” asked Daddy Bunker, while Grandpa Ford looked on.  “Were you trying to do some circus tricks in the hammock, Russ?”

“No.  I—­I was just climbing up, like a sailor when he goes up a rope, you know, and——­”

“I call that a circus trick!” interrupted Mr. Bunker.  “I wouldn’t try those, if I were you, Russ.  You aren’t hurt much this time, I guess, but you might be another time.  Don’t try any tricks until you get older.”