The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1892-10-14
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Pretty Polly Paschall sat bolt upright,
her red-brown curls falling in rich con-
fusion about her bare white throat, her
brown eyes as wide as if she had not been
in bed and asleep for hours. The lamp
was turned low, as she had left it, and
shone with a dim, soft radiance over all
the richly furnished room.
Polly stared about her. The chairs,
the tables, the little quantity carved
stand by the window, and which held
her precious pilgrim bottle, were all just
as she had left them. What could the
noise have been? Suddenly her eyes fell
upon the little square door in the wall
high above the book case.
"My ghost at lastl" said Polly, clasp
ing her pretty little palms together. She
waited a moment in breathless silence,
but hearing no repetition of the noise
which had awakened her, she sprang out
of bed, put on her slippers and dressing
gown, threw some bits of wood upon the
still glowing embers, and turning out
the lamp sat down before the fire to
await the ghost whose coming she had
been expecting for lol these many days.
The Paschalls, father, mother and
daughter, had moved into their present
abode to await the erection of their own
house, and upon the very first day of
their coming Polly had spied the little
''secret door," as she called it, and Sc
lected this for her room.
"Just think of the possibilities of TO-
NANCE" she said to her father, and he
had COTTON upon the house cleaner step
ladder and found the door fastened hard
and fast.
at is all safe," he said
'Oh want it to be safe from mortal
hands," Polly said; but ghosts stand
not back for bolts and bars"
eff it is ghost you want" said her
father, you may get it. This house be-
longs to one of the oldest, and at one
time the welthiest, families in the State.
1t has stood here for years, and has
known many changes, and l presume
could tell many stories and perhaps give
up good many ghosts. l rented it from
a sweet-faced, grand looking old lady,
who lives somehow and somewhere in
those dark apartments next door to us,
/ think she is the only surviving member
of the noble family whose glory and
wealth have departed. No. l believe
she told me that there was boy, her
grandson, who is working at-she told
me what he does but DOM remember"
"How interesting! exclaimed Polly.
81 am sure l shall find a ghost"
But so many uneventful months had
passed since she had ensconced herself
in the rooms that she had almost forgot
ten to expect a ghost until tonight
when a noise as of slippered feet walk
ing over hard, bare floor had awakened
her.
She sat for long time, her eyes fixed
upon the little door, expecting every mo-
ment that ghostly hand would undo
ho nd rh
would emerge from the darkness beyond.
But-her maid found her still sitting and
fast asleep the next morning when she
came to awaken her.
my pretty Polly will have a gloomy
day of it, fear" said her father when
he kissed her good-by. sit is raining in
torrents"
''Oh, that is delightful" said Polly;
81 shall have good, quiet, lazy, dreamy
day of it, just such a day as one should
have after an episode with ghost"
Though the rain battered smoothly
upon the windows, and the warmth and
glow within were conducive of day
dreaming, Polly soon found the hours of
idleness growing long and tedious.
81 shall try for the hundredth time,"
she said at last, ito see if l can open the
little door which l am sure leads to my
ghost"
Polly was light, and graceful and agile,
so to scramble from the back of the big
chair to the top of the bookcase was but
the work of moment.
The little door which was sunken in
the wall above was of black oak, richly
carved. Polly searched it closely to see
if she could find any possible way to
open it. Suddenly, almost by chance, her
fingers touched little spot In the eye of
one of the carved griffins, aspiring clicked
and the door flew open in her face.
Polly gave scream and sank down
upon the top of the bookcase. She wait
ed a moment; no sign, no sound resulted
from her successful effort, and she stood
up and peered through the doorway.
Gradually as her eyes became accus-
toned to the semi-darkness, she began
to distinguish the objects in the little
room beyond. There was little case of
books, a large square table and one chair,
big and cosy and comfortable looking.
Polly's father had always called her
'plucky girl" and now she hesitated
only moment, then stepped up through
the opening into the room beyond.
1t was very small room she found
when she had gotten in, and the only
door that led from it was locked. The
books on the shelves were old and rusty
looking.
"They belong to a dead generation"
said Polly.
On the table were papers, sheet after
sheet of manuscript, pencils, pens and
ink. The chair stood before the table as
if some one had just been writing, and |
upon the hearth were fresh embers.
my ghost is certainly sensible Great |
ure-humanly So" said Polly, as she |
seated herself in the chair and began to |
look over the papers on the table.
There were many notes and scraps, |
meaningless and disjointed, but finally |
she came to a packet containing quite a |
lengthy manuscript, closely written,
much folded and fingered.
"The ghost is an author" said Polly, |
land his manuscript has been rejected. |
Proved unavailable to our columns |
Poor fellow. Well, 1 shall read his story |
if it be one. The plot thickens. Think |
of being able to read a ghosts story! |
One that the eye of mortal has never be- |
heidi"
She began to read, turning the leaves
over slowly at first, but gradually her
eyes flew over the closely written pages,
the words and thoughts were filling her |
with an interest that she had seldom felt |
in printed pages. She finished at last |
with sigh of relief
nv.1,v 81, L