Then, as he
took off his skates while the sun climbed arrogantly up to his place
above all other things, Hagadorn chanced to glance lakeward, and he saw
there was a great wind-rift in the ice and that the waves showed blue as
sapphires beside the gleaming ice. Had he swept along his intended path,
watching the stars to guide him, his glance turned upward, all his body
at magnificent momentum, he must certainly have gone into that cold
grave. The white skater had been his guardian angel! Much impressed, he went up to his friend’s house, expecting to find
there the pleasant wedding furore. But someone met him quietly at the
door, and his friend came downstairs to greet him with a solemn
demeanor. “Is this your wedding face?” cried Hagadorn. “Why, really, if this is
the way you are affected, the sooner I take warning the better.”

“There’s no wedding to-day,” said his friend. “No wedding? Why, you’re not----”

“Marie Beaujeu died last night----”

“Marie----”

“Died last night. She had been skating in the afternoon, and she came
home chilled and wandering in her mind, as if the frost had got in it
somehow. She got worse and worse and talked all the time of you.”

“Of me?”

“We wondered what it all meant. We didn’t know you were lovers.”

“I didn’t know it myself; more’s the pity.”

“She said you were on the ice. She said you didn’t know about the big
breaking up, and she cried to us that the wind was off shore. Then she
cried that you could come in by the old French Creek if you only
knew----?”

“I came in that way,” interrupted Hagadorn. “How did you come to do that? It’s out of your way.”

So Hagadorn told him how it came to pass. And that day they watched beside the maiden, who had tapers at her head
and feet, and over in the little church the bride who might have been at
her wedding said prayers for her friend. Then they buried her in her
bridesmaid’s white, and Hagadorn was there before the altar with her, as
he intended from the first. At midnight the day of the burial her
friends were married in the gloom of the cold church, and they walked
together through the snow to lay their bridal wreaths on her grave. Three nights later Hagadorn started back again to his home. They wanted
him to go by sunlight, but he had his way and went when Venus made her
bright path on the ice. He hoped for the companionship of the white
skater. But he did not have it. His only companion was the wind. The
only voice he heard was the baying of a wolf on the north shore. The
world was as white as if it had just been created and the sun had not
yet colored nor man defiled it. HOW HE CAUGHT THE GHOST. “Yes, the house is a good one,” said the agent; “it’s in a good
neighborhood, and you’re getting it at almost nothing; but I think it
right to tell you all about it. You are orphans, you say, and with a
mother dependent on you? That makes it all the more necessary that you
should know. The fact is, the house is said to be haunted----”

The agent could not help smiling as he said it, and he was relieved to
see an answering smile on the two faces before him. “Ah, you don’t believe in ghosts,” he went on; “nor do I, for that
matter; but, somehow, the reputation of the house keeps me from having a
tenant long at a time. The place ought to rent for twice as much as it
does.”

“If we succeed in driving out the ghost, you will not raise the rent?”
asked the boy, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. “Well, no--not this year, at any rate,” laughed the agent. And so the
house was rented; and the slip of a girl and the tall lad, her brother,
went their way. Within a week the family had moved into the house, and were delighted
with it. It was large and cool, with wide halls and fine stairways, and
with more room than they needed. But that did not matter in the least,
for they had always been cramped in small houses, suffering many
discomforts; and they never could have afforded such a place as this if
it had not been “haunted.”

“Blessings on the ghost!” cried Margaret, gaily, as she ran about as
merry as a child. “Who would be without a ghost in the house, when it
brings one like this?”

“And it is so near your school,” said the mother; “and I used to worry
so over the long walk; and David can come home to lunch now, and you
don’t know what a pleasure that will be.”

“It seems to me,” David gravely explained, “that if I should meet the
ghost I would treat him with the greatest politeness and encourage him
to stay. We shall not miss the room he takes, shall we? I think it would
be well to set aside that room over yours, Maggie, for his ghostship’s
own, for we shall not need that, you know. Besides, the door doesn’t
shut, and he can go in and out without breaking the lock.”

And then they all laughed and had a great deal of fun over the ghost,
which was a great joke to them. They were very tired that night and slept soundly all night long. When
they met the next morning there was more laughter about the ghost which
was shy about meeting strangers, probably, and had made no effort to
introduce himself. For the next three days they were all hard at work,
trying to bring chaos into something like order; and then it was time
for the school to open, and Margaret was to begin teaching, and David
inserted an advertisement in the city papers for a maid-of-all-work, who
might help their mother in their absence. For one whole day prospective colored servants presented themselves and
announced:

“Is dis de house whar dey wants a worklady? No, ma’am, I ain’ gwine to
work in dis house. Ketch me workin’ in no ha’nted house.”

After which they each and all departed, and others came in their stead. One was secured after a while, but no sooner had she talked across the
fence with a neighbor’s servant than she, too, departed. “Never mind, children,” said Mrs. Craig, wearily, “I would much rather
do the work than be troubled in this way.”

So the maid-of-all-work was dismissed and the Craig family locked the
doors and went to their rooms, worn out with the day’s anxieties. They had been in the house four days, and there had been neither sight
nor sound of the ghost. The very mention of it was enough to start them
all to laughing, for they were thoroughly practical people, with a
fondness for inquiring into anything that seemed mysterious to them and
for understanding it thoroughly before they let it go. David was soon sleeping the sound sleep of healthy boyhood, and all was
silent in the house, when Margaret stole softly into his room and laid
her hand on his arm. He was not easy to waken, and several minutes had
passed before he sat up in bed with an articulate murmur of surprise. “Hush!” said Margaret, in a whisper, with her hand on his lips. “I want
you to come into my room and listen to a sound that I have been hearing
for some time.”

“Doors creaking,” suggested David, as he began to dress. “Nothing of the kind,” was all she said. They walked up the stairway, and along the upper hall to the door of the
unused room.