Indeed, she was far more eager than Lillian Seldon, who could not be persuaded even to contemplate the thought of approaching the "ha'nted house." Lillian insisted that it was her duty to stay at home with Eleanor and Miss Jenny Ann.
No one had been told of the proposed trip except Mr. and Mrs. Preston. The ghost party had no intention of allowing practical jokers in the neighborhood to get up "fake spooks" for their entertainment. They were seriously determined to find out why the ancient house was supposed to be inhabited by spirits from another world, and whether David Brewster had seen real ghosts during his visit to the house or only creatures of his own imagination.
Miss Betsey clung tightly to David's arm as they made their way along the dark road. The old lady wore a pale gray dress, with a soft real lace collar around her neck. Recently the houseboat girls had persuaded her to leave off her false side curls and to wave her hair a little over her ears. No change of costume could make Miss Betsey a beauty, but she was improved, and she did look a little less like an old maid. To-night Miss Betsey had concealed her dress with a long, black macintosh cape, which completely enveloped her. With her tall, spare form and her lean, square shoulders Miss Betsey looked like a grenadier. On her head she had tied, with a long gray veil, one of Jack Bolling's soft felt hats.
"Madge, if you keep on prattling such gruesome tales I shall turn back and leave you to your fate," expostulated Phil, as she urged Madge along behind David and their chaperon. "I know nothing will happen 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.