IN THE BARN

BY BURGES JOHNSON

From the _Century Magazine_, June, 1920. By permission of the Century
Company and Burges Johnson.

In the Barn

BY BURGES JOHNSON

The moment we had entered the barn, I regretted the rash good nature
which prompted me to consent to the plans of those vivacious young
students. Miss Anstell and Miss Royce and one or two others, often
leaders in student mischief, I suspect, were the first to enter, and
they amused themselves by hiding in the darkness and greeting the rest
of our party as we entered with sundry shrieks and moans such as are
commonly attributed to ghosts. My wife and I brought up the rear,
carrying the two farm lanterns. She had selected the place after an
amused consideration of the question, and I confess I hardly approved
her judgment. But she is native to this part of the country, and she had
assured us that there were some vague traditions hanging about the
building that made it most suitable for our purposes.

It was a musty old place, without even as much tidiness as is usually
found in barns, and there was a dank smell about it, as though
generations of haymows had decayed there. There were holes in the floor,
and in the dusk of early evening it was necessary for us to pick our
way with the greatest care. It occurred to me then, in a premonitory
sort of way, that if some young woman student sprained her ankle in this
absurd environment, I should be most embarrassed to explain it.
Apparently it was a hay barn, whose vague dimensions were lost in
shadow. Rafters crossed its width about twenty feet above our heads, and
here and there a few boards lay across the rafters, furnishing foothold
for anyone who might wish to operate the ancient pulley that was
doubtless once used for lifting bales. The northern half of the floor
was covered with hay to a depth of two or three feet. How long it had
actually been there I cannot imagine. It was extremely dusty, and I
feared a recurrence of my old enemy, hay fever; but it was too late to
offer objection on such grounds, and my wife and I followed our
chattering guides, who disposed themselves here and there on this
ancient bed of hay, and insisted that we should find places in the
center of their circle.

At my suggestion, the two farm lanterns had been left at a suitable
distance, in fact, quite at the other side of the barn, and our only
light came from the rapidly falling twilight of outdoors, which found
its wa