"Dear Madam (or Sir): Having heard that a dangerous or mysterious character has come to live alone in the Evergreens, which we call the Dismals, we feel it our duty to warn you that you may fear to be robbed or murdered by this strange person, and that you should be on your guard. Yours respectfully (signed), Lady Griselda of the Castle of the Lonely Lake. Lady Catharine Seyton, Postmistress of Blissylvania."
The circular had the desired effect. Mrs. Peace Plenty was panic-stricken; Sir Harry Hotspur vowed to wear his sword henceforth when he went abroad, and warned all wicked men that they'd better look out, for he would use it, and Lady Alma Cara promised to take Hero with her whenever she could if she went out. Hero was her big St. Bernard, and objected to much exercise in summer.
Lady Alma Cara did not seem disturbed by the awful rumors as to the strange tenant, but she was far too wise to tell the children that she thought there was no danger, knowing well that this was an opportunity for them to make much of, and that there was a certain pleasure in their fear. By Sunday the reports of the mysterious tenant had multiplied, not lessening in horror. Margery held her medals tight as she passed along the streets, though her terror was moderated when Winnie, the cook, reported that he had been in the back of the church at the first Mass, but had slipped out before any one could get a good look at him. Jack and Trix pointed out to Margery with much pains, that this showed that he was even worse than they supposed, because he came to church only to pretend to be decent, but could not stay to face honest people.
Sunday night the sensation reached a tremendous pitch. The children had taken tea with Trix, and had been entertained by Katie with the latest news of the stranger. He did not live alone, after all; it seemed that he had an old woman for housekeeper, and though it was not certain who had seen her to report her appearance, it was quite certain that she had a hump, and never went out in the grounds of the Dismals without a broomstick, which proved, so Katie thought, that she was a witch. As to the man himself, he walked with his head down, and Katie had heard that he cast no shadow, and the children wondered what kind of folks it was cast no shadow. The children did not know, but they did not like to ask, feeling sure they must be the most awful people possible, especially since they had never seen such, and shuddered at the thought. Katie, a fresh-faced, pleasant little girl with no notion of doing them harm, but with an amiable desire to be agreeable, responded to their cries for more, with tales of banshees and witches till their blood froze in their veins, and they left for home in an agony of fear and went to bed in dumb suffering. Had they spoken their fears their misery would have been short, but none of them mentioned the matter, and so no relief could come.
Each made a characteristic preparation for the dangers of the night. Jack took his toy pistol and sword to bed, hoping in case of alarm the invader would mistake them for real ones. Trix laid the ice-pick and fire-tongs on her pillow, and hung a bucket of water, to which she had tied a string, over her bedroom-door. Amy put her rosary, crucifix, and prayer-book under her pillow, and made sure that she had on her medals and scapular, and then got an extra pillow and blanket to muffle her ears, which, as the night was warm, had its drawbacks. Poor, nervous little Margery sprinkled all her bed with holy water, collected every pious object which she possessed, and took Tommy Traddles to bed with her, that in case of danger she might protect him. To all the others sleep came soon in spite of fear, but Margery lay cold and wakeful until the twitter and stirring of the birds outside her window, and the first rays of dawn brought the hope and comfort of another day.
[CHAPTER V.]
THE INVASION OF THE AMAZONS.
Margery arose from her night of terror armed with the courage of desperation. There were two letters in the post that morning addressed in her stiff little handwriting to Lady Catharine Seyton and Mrs. Peace Plenty. They were precisely alike, except in the address, and ran thus: