“It’s the ghost,” cried Bess, giggling.
“I ain’t no ghost,” protested the boy in black, shivering in the cold. He wore no overcoat, his shoes were broken, and his hands uncovered.
“The ghost?” repeated Walter, puzzled. “Is he what frightened you girls around here?”
“And Mrs. Cupp! Oh, he frightened her awfully!” cried Bess.
“Well, I don’t care! she was mean to me,” declared the boy. “And Miss Vane tied my hands and feet to a chair and made me sit up all night in the dark. And now a feller who used to live at the poor farm and who I met when I ran away from Miss Vane told me that some money had been left me by my father’s uncle. And Miss Vane and Mrs. Cupp’s got it, I don’t doubt!”
“Who are you?” asked Nan, softly. “Don’t be afraid of us. If we can, we will help you. Bring him inside, Walter. It isn’t as cold here as it is out of doors. Do come in.”
“I’m Hiram Pease,” said the strange boy, plainly glad to tell his tale to anybody who showed sympathy. “Miss Vane took me from the poor farm. I’m an orphan. She treated me real mean. And I don’t like Mrs. Cupp, either. I don’t see how you girls stand her.”
“I guess she likes girls better than she does boys,” said Nan, quietly.
“And now I bet they have got that money from my great uncle, and I want it!” exclaimed Hiram, who seemed to be of a rather vindictive nature, and not a very pleasant person. He was underfed, undersized, and unhealthy looking.
“How have you lived here all this time?” cried Nan, pitying the boy.