ain't no ghost. I love ye, pretty boy. Ye won't tell no one
that I speak to ye, will ye? I ain't doin' no hurt."

"What do you carry that cat for, and what's your name?" demanded Everett
insolently; for the proud young eyes had noticed the disheveled figure.
"If any one of our men see you about here, they'll shoot you. I'd shoot
you and your cat, too, if I had my father's gun!"

Scraggy smiled wanly. "Screech Owl's my name," said she. "They call me
that 'cause I'm batty. But ye wouldn't hurt me, little 'un, 'cause I
love ye. How old be ye?"

"Six years old; but it isn't any of your business. Crazy people ought to
be locked up. You'd better go away from here. My father owns that house,
and--don't you follow me through the hedge. Get back, I say! If I call
Malcolm--"

Everett drew back through the box-hedge, and the boy and the girl at the
window saw the woman squeeze in after him. In another moment the young
heir to the Brimbecomb fortune bounded through the doorway. His face was
white; his eyes were filled with fear.

"Did you see that old woman?" he gasped. "She tried to kiss me, and I
punched her in the face, and her cat did this to my arm."

He pulled up his sleeve, and displayed a long scratch from wrist to
elbow.

"Are you sure it wasn't a ghost, Everett?" asked Ann, shivering.

"Of course, it wasn't," boasted Everett. "It was only a horrid woman
with a cat--that's all."

As he closed the door vehemently, there drifted to the children from the
marble monument and waving trees the faint wail of a night-owl.

CHAPTER FOUR

On a fashionable street in Syracuse, Floyd Vandecar, district attorney
of the city, lived in a new house, built to please the delicate fancies
of his pretty wife. His career had been comet-like. Graduated from
Cornell University and starting in law with his father, he had succeeded
to a large practice when but a very young man. Then came the call for
his force and strength to be used for the state, and, with a gratified
smile, he accepted the votes of his constituents to act as district
attorney. Then, as Lon Cronk had told, it came within the duty of the
young lawyer to convict the thief of grand larceny committed three years
before. After that Floyd married the lovely Fledra Martindale, and a
year later his twin children were born--a sturdy boy and a tiny girl.
The children were nearly a year old when Fledra Vandecar whispered
another secret to her husband, and Vandecar, lov