“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.”