“Oh, we’ve found the ghost!” cried Rose to her mother.  “It’s in the storeroom!  Listen!”

The two women listened.  The groan sounded very plainly, and did seem to come from the room off the kitchen.

Grandma Ford walked in.  All was quiet for a moment, and then the noise sounded again.

“I’ve found it!” cried Grandma Ford.  “I’ve found the ghost at last!”

“What is it?” exclaimed Mother Bunker.

“I don’t know exactly what makes it,” said Grandma Ford; “but the noise comes out of this rain-water pipe under the window of the storeroom.  We’ll call Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford and have them look.  But come in and listen, all of you.”

With their mother the six little Bunkers went into the storeroom.  Just as they entered the groan sounded loudly, and, as Grandma Ford said, it came from a rain-water pipe that ran slantingly under the window.

“That’s the ghost!” cried Mother Bunker.  “No wonder we couldn’t find it.  We never looked here before.”

And when Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford came down out of the attic, where they had not been able to find the “ghost,” though they heard the sound of it faintly there, they were told what the six little Bunkers had discovered with the help of Grandma Ford.

“Yes, the noise comes from the rain-water pipe,” said Grandpa Ford, when he had looked and listened carefully.

“What makes it?” asked Daddy Bunker.

“Well, the pipe is broken, and partly filled with water from the rain or melted snow.  There are also some dried leaves in the pipe.  One end has sunk down and the wind blows across that and makes a hollow, groaning sound, just as you can make by blowing across the open mouth of a big, empty bottle.  That was the ghost—­the wind blowing across the broken water pipe.”

“Yes, that is what made it,” said Daddy Bunker, when he had taken a look and had listened again.  “The sound comes loudest when the wind blows.”

“The noise sounded, sometimes, when the wind didn’t blow,” said Grandpa Ford, as he took the pipe apart, “because of the dried leaves that were in it.  The leaves became water-soaked, and were in a lump.  Then, when this lump slid down it made a sort of choking sound like a pump that runs out of water.  The wind blowing across the pipe, and the wet leaves sinking down, made the queer noises.  I’m glad we’ve found out about them.”

“But what made it blow all through the house?” asked Mother Bunker.

“Because there are rain-water pipes, or drain pipes, from the gutters on all sides of the house,” explained her husband.  “The pipes are connected, and the sound, starting in the broken pipe under the window in the storeroom, vibrated all around the house from the attic to the cellar.  That ends the ghost, children.”

And so it did, for when that pipe and some others were mended, and fastened together after being cleaned out, no more groans were heard.  And so the “ghost” at Great Hedge was found to be nothing more than all ghosts are—­something natural and simple.