a great deal.  No, she wasn’t going to go down there and play second fiddle to anybody.  She and Una took their story books to Rainbow Valley and read, while Carl investigated bugs along the banks of the brook, and all three were happy until they suddenly realized that it was twilight and that the old Bailey garden was uncomfortably near by.  Carl came and sat down close to the girls.  They all wished they had gone home a little sooner, but nobody said anything.

Great, velvety, purple clouds heaped up in the west and spread over the valley.  There was no wind and everything was suddenly, strangely, dreadfully still.  The marsh was full of thousands of fire-flies.  Surely some fairy parliament was being convened that night.  Altogether, Rainbow Valley was not a canny place just then.

Faith looked fearfully up the valley to the old Bailey garden.  Then, if anybody’s blood ever did freeze, Faith Meredith’s certainly froze at that moment.  The eyes of Carl and Una followed her entranced gaze and chills began gallopading up and down their spines also.  For there, under the big tamarack tree on the tumble-down, grass-grown dyke of the Bailey garden, was something white—­shapelessly white in the gathering gloom.  The three Merediths sat and gazed as if turned to stone.

“It’s—­it’s the—­calf,” whispered Una at last.

“It’s—­too—­big—­for the calf,” whispered Faith.  Her mouth and lips were so dry she could hardly articulate the words.

Suddenly Carl gasped,

“It’s coming here.”

The girls gave one last agonized glance.  Yes, it was creeping down over the dyke, as no calf ever did or could creep.  Reason fled before sudden, over-mastering panic.  For the moment every one of the trio was firmly convinced that what they saw was Henry Warren’s ghost.  Carl sprang to his feet and bolted blindly.  With a simultaneous shriek the girls followed him.  Like mad creatures they tore up the hill, across the road and into the manse.  They had left Aunt Martha sewing in the kitchen.  She was not there.  They rushed to the study.  It was dark and tenantless.  As with one impulse, they swung around and made for Ingleside—­but not across Rainbow Valley.  Down the hill and through the Glen street they flew on the wings of their wild terror, Carl in the lead, Una bringing up the rear.  Nobody tried to stop them, though everybody who saw them wondered what fresh devilment those manse youngsters were up to now.  But at the gate of Ingleside they ran into Rosemary West, who had just been in for a moment to return some borrowed books.

She saw their ghastly faces and staring eyes.  She realized that their poor little souls were wrung with some awful and real fear, whatever its cause.  She caught Carl with one arm and Faith with the other.  Una stumbled against her and held on desperately.

“Children, dear, what has happened?” she said.  “What has frightened you?”