"Something queer?" repeated Mrs. Bunker.
"Yes, a sort of mystery," went on Grandpa Ford. "It's a puzzle to me. A riddle I should call it if I were Laddie. By the way, I hope the children don't hear me tell this, or they might be frightened."
"No, they have all gone out to play," said Mrs. Bunker. "They can not hear you."
"So there is something wrong about Great Hedge, is there?" asked Daddy Bunker. "By the way," he went on, "I have never been there, but I suppose it is called that because it has a big hedge around it."
"That is it," said Grandpa Ford. "All around the house, enclosing it like a fence, is a big, thick hedge. It is green and pretty in summer, but bare and brown in the winter. However, it keeps off the north wind, so I rather like it. In the summer it shades the house and makes it cool. Yes, the hedge gives the name to the place.
"But now I must tell you what is queer about it—the mystery or the puzzle. And I don't want you or the children to be alarmed."
"Why should we?" asked Mrs. Bunker.
"Well, most persons are frightened by ghosts," said Grandpa Ford with a laugh.
"Father, you don't mean to tell me you believe in ghosts!" cried Daddy Bunker.
"Of course not!" answered his stepfather. "There aren't any such things as ghosts, and, naturally, I don't believe in them. But I know that some people do, and children might be frightened if they heard the name."