he cried wildly. "Come on, man!"

Bill needed no second bidding. He glanced once more at the startling
apparition and followed his comrade.

In truth Beatrice did present rather a ghostly appearance. She was clad
in a long white night gown; her yellow hair bushed in all its bleached
glory around the white mask through which her eyes gleamed with feverish
brilliancy. The greenish juice of the jimpson had permeated the cloth,
giving it just enough of a stain to be ghastly under the rays of the
lamp. As the men gained the window the girl, hardly conscious of what
she was doing, moved toward them. Uttering cries of fear the fellows
jumped through and made a dash for the road. Doors began to open and
close, and Bee knew that the household was aroused. It brought her to
her senses quickly. She had been so frightened that she had not fully
grasped the meaning of the scene through which she had just passed, but
now it flashed upon her that it was her beautifying mask that had
terrified the burglars.

"Father must not see me," she thought with an hysterical giggle. "I
should frighten him, too."

There was not a moment to lose, so setting her lamp upon the table she
crept under the couch and drew back as far as she could, just as her
father ran in, followed by Aunt Fanny, Joel her husband, and old Uncle
Billy, the gardener.

"Well, upon my word!" exclaimed Dr. Raymond. "It's burglars. See, here
is the silver. What made them leave it? Something scared them. What
could it have been?"

"'Twuz a hant," cried Aunt Fanny, ashy with terror. "Didn't you heah 'em
say 'twuz a hant?"

"It certainly sounded that way, but that is nonsense of course. Joel, do
you come with me, and we will search the grounds. Uncle Billy, go at
once to the stable and see if everything is all right there. Aunt Fanny
will look after the house."

"Lawsie, Massa doctah, yer ain't a gwine ter leab me heah, is yer?"
queried Aunt Fanny fearfully.

"Why, there is nothing to hurt you. Come on, Joel."

Dr. Raymond leaped through the window, followed by Joel, while Uncle
Billy left for the stable. Aunt Fanny, left alone, began to soliloquize
audibly:

"Hant, eh? I spec' hit's a hant. Dis house dun bin shet up too long fer
it not to be a hant. Dis heah chile ain't a gwine ter stay in no house
wid a hant. No, sah; she a gwine ter leab shore yer bo'n. She--"

"Aunt Fanny," spoke Bee in muffled tones.

"Good Lawd," cried Aunt Fanny, starting up. "Hit's the h