“‘What on earth are you doing, child?’ cried Angela.

“’I was giving chase to a hideous old woman in a black bonnet, who chose to intrude upon us,’ panted Charlotte.  ’I saw her in our room; I jumped out of bed and pursued her through your room and the sitting-room.  Then I saw her before me going downstairs, and I ran after her; but the door at the foot of the kitchen staircase was shut.  She certainly could not have had time to open it, and I really don’t know where she can have gone to!’

“This was Charlotte’s explanation of her mad scurry downstairs.  Her downright sensible face was puzzled and angry.

“’So you see the little ones must have been tormented by that old wretch, whoever she is.  They didn’t dream it, father, as you thought.  Wouldn’t I like to punish her!’”

“What a brave girl!” cried Mrs. Marchmont.

“Brave?  Oh, Charlotte’s as bold as a lion!  She went back to bed; and when we followed her, in a couple of hours, she was sleeping soundly.  But I can’t say either of us slept so well.  If a trick was being played upon us, it was carried out in so clever a manner as to baffle me completely.  I need not say that I made careful search of every cranny about the handsome house and offices; and if there was a secret passage or a door in the wall anywhere, it escaped me.  We had peace for a fortnight, and then the annoyance recommenced.

“Angela’s nerve was shaken at last, and she began to whisper, ’There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio’—­”

“John, you are making a story!” interrupted Mrs. Henniker.

“It is every word true.  I am coming to an end.  Angela, in spite of her disclaimer, did believe in a ghost in a black bonnet.  Charlotte believed in her, but did not care about her ghostship.  The nurse and cook and housemaid declared they were meeting the horrible appearance constantly; and they were all three in a mortal funk.  As to the children, they would not leave off clinging to their mother, and fretting and trembling when evening came.  The milkman, the baker and the butcher, all told the servants that we would not be long at the Hall, for nobody ever remained more than a month or two.  This was cheerful and encouraging for me!”

“But you had never seen the charming old woman all this time?”

“No; but I saw her in the broad daylight.  I had a good long look at her, and a more diabolical face I never saw—­no, not even in the dock.  I was writing letters in the study about twelve o’clock one morning, when I suddenly looked up, to see the appearance that had excited such a turmoil in my family standing near the table.  A frightful face—­a short-set woman dressed in black—­gown, shawl, bonnet—­this was the impression I received.  But she looked quite human—­quite everyday—­there was nothing ghostly in her air—­only the evil face curdled one’s blood.  I stared at her, and then I took up a folded newspaper and threw