“Just like it, only louder,” was the answer.

“I wonder what it can be at Great Hedge,” said Mrs. Thompson.  “I should think it would scare you dreadfully,” she went on.

“Why, no,” answered Rose.  “But we want to find out what it is.  So does my daddy and Grandpa Ford.  We’re going to help him, Russ and I, only every time we hear a funny noise it turns out to be Mun Bun falling out of bed, or an alarm clock beating a drum or something like that.”

“Mercy sakes!” exclaimed Mrs. Thompson.  “You must have great goings-on at Great Hedge!” She laughed when Russ and Rose told her of the different queer noises, each one turning out to be something that was only funny and easily explainable.

“Well, I’m sorry I startled you,” said Mr. Thompson.  “I sometimes take a notion to go off by myself and blow the old horn as I used to in the band when I belonged to it years ago.  That wasn’t here; it was in another village.  But I had no idea I sounded like a ghost.”

“Oh, it—­it sounded nice after we knew what it was,” said Rose, thinking Mr. Thompson’s feelings might be hurt if they said they didn’t like his horn.

“Well, I’ll not blow it again while you’re here,” he said.  “And now, unless I’m mistaken, I think I see your grandfather coming back.  He’ll soon have the sled fixed.”

The six little Bunkers rushed to the window and saw Grandpa Ford riding down the road on the back of Major.  Prince had been left in Mr. Thompson’s barn.  In a little while Russ and Rose were telling their grandfather about the queer noise of the bass horn.

“I never heard you had a ghost at Great Hedge,” said Mrs. Thompson to Grandpa Ford.

“Well, I call it a ghost for want of a better name,” he replied.  “It’s just a noise, and I thought we would find out what it was before this, but we haven’t.  However, we don’t worry about it.  What do you think of my six little Bunkers?”

“I love them—­each and every one,” said Mrs. Thompson.  “Let them come over and see me again.”

“I will,” promised Grandpa Ford.

“And I promise I won’t play the horn for you,” added Mr. Thompson, laughing.

He helped Mr. Ford fix the big sled, and soon it had been turned right side up, the horses were again hitched to it, and the children, after bidding their new friends good-bye, got in, and away they drove again, the merry bells jingling.

“Well, I wish we could find out what the queer noise is here at Great Hedge as easily as you children found out what the one was at the cabin,” said Grandma Ford, when Russ and Rose and Laddie and Vi, by turns, had told her what had happened when Mr. Thompson blew his horn.

“Did the ghost sound while I was away?” asked Grandpa Ford.

“Yes, and louder than ever,” said Mother Bunker.  “We looked all over, but we couldn’t find out what made the sound.”

“Maybe it was Santa Claus,” said Violet.  “He’s coming here, and maybe he’s trying the chimney to see if it fits him.”