en to-night,
except that we will all be dead tired and wish we were safe at home in
our little beds. Good gracious, what was that?" Phil gave Madge's arm a
sudden pinch. "That" was an old woman hobbling along the road in the
opposite direction from the four adventurers.

"Scat!" cried Miss Betsey nervously as the woman came face to face with
her.

David laughed and took off his hat in the dark. The old woman had picked
up her skirts and started to scurry off as fast as she could. But as she
caught sight of Miss Betsey's face in the light of the lantern that
David carried the old mammy paused. She was the "Mammy Ellen" to whom
Mrs. Preston had talked on the day of the drive to the "ha'nted house."

"Land sakes alive, chillun, how you scairt me!" grumbled the old woman.
"When you done said 'Scat!' I thought certain you'd seen a black cat,
and it jest nacherally means bad luck. Ain't you the lady I seen with
Mrs. Preston?" inquired Mammy Ellen of Miss Betsey, with the marvelous
memory that colored people have for faces.

Miss Betsey nodded. "I wish you would come to see me in the morning,
Mammy," suggested Miss Betsey. "Long years ago I used to know Mr. John
Randolph, and Mrs. Preston tells me you were a member of his family. We
can't stop to-night. We are going--on up the road," concluded Miss
Taylor vaguely.

Even in the darkness Madge and Phyllis could see the whites of Mammy
Ellen's eyes grow larger. "You ain't a-goin' near the house of 'ha'nts,'
is you? If you do, you'll sure meet trouble, one of you, I ain't a
saying which. But ef you disturb a dead ghost, he am just as apt to put
his ice cold fingers on you, and you ain't no more good after that. You
am sure enough done for."

"Why not, Auntie?" inquired Madge, her blue eyes dancing. Meeting this
aged colored woman with her mysterious tale of ghost signs and warnings
was the best possible beginning for their lark.

"Child, ef a ghost's cold fingers teches you, your heart grows stone
cold. There ain't nobody that loves you and you don't love nobody ever
after. Don't you go near that old house, chilluns. It ain't no place for
the likes of you," pleaded Mammy Ellen. "I tell you there am more buried
there than youall knows. That old house am a grave for the young and the
old. Mind what I say. It sure am."

"Why do you think we are going to the 'ghost house,' Mammy?" queried
David, laughing.

The old colored woman shook her head slowly. "It ain't caze I think