The Arm Chair Library No. 79: The Haunted Homestead — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ei : « ¢ i “a . ¥ Dt oe WHA wes x ‘ Ks #44 J Mente pee eis ; i ’ se ™ - a“ 7 THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 9 _ a LL LLL EC LL LLL LLL LA ae young people returned no more that night to the parlor in the new house, but prepared for a game of “snap- apple” in the old dining-room, which their romping could not hurt. | I was so weary with my three days and nighis of riding, and so eager be- sides for a tete-a-tete with Mathilde, that I pleaded fatigue as an undeni- sble reason for retiring before the eames should commence. I hoped that Mathilde alone would attend me. Not so. Mrs. Legare, apparently watching for my withdrawal, joined her daughter and myself as we left the room, and accompanied us to the chamber set apart for my use in the new house. When we had reached this apartment Mrs. Legare said: “There is no one that sleeps in this house usually. We keep these cham- bers principally for the use of our guests. No one will Occupy any room within it to-night except yourself, unless, indeed, you feel afraid—” “Afraid?” repeated I, in a tone that quickly called forth an apology. “Oh! I know, my dear Agnes, that you are no coward, but I did not negro women to sleep on a mattress in your room.” “By no means, Mrs. Legare. I shall fall asleep as soon as I touch my pillow, and-not wake until morning— so I should not be able to appreciate the benefit of Peggy or Dinah’s so. ciety. “Very well, my dear, as you please. Here is a bell-rope at your bed’s head; its wires run into the old house. Ii you should want anything, ring.” I smiled and assured my hostess I wanted nothing but sleep. Where- upon she called Mathilde, bade me good night and left the room. ‘Turn- ing back, however, she said to me: “Aones, my dear, lock your cham- ber door after us.” “Yes, madam.” “Excuse me, my dear, but young people are forgetful—especially when they are tired and sleepy. I think I should like to hear you lock it, Agnes.” There was something in her cau- tion that struck me as very singular, but I laughed and went to the door, and, after repeating my good-night, as desired, shut the door in their faces know but that you might feel indis-) and locked it. posed to sleep alone in a strange house.” “What? when it is a perfectly new house, Mrs. Legare? If, indeed, it were an old-time house, I might be afraid of the traditional ghost,” said I, watching in her countenance the effect of my words—and seeing her, to my astonishment, turn pale, and send a quick, significant glance to Mathilde, who averted her head. “Ah!” thought I, “the old house is haunted! Would they would only let me sleep there, where there is some chance of being delightfully fright- ened.” “T was about to say, Agnes, that if you prefer, I will send one of the “There! have you heard me lock the door?” I inquired. “Yes, my dear—all right.” “And is your mind at rest on that score?” “Y am sure that you have attended to my advice. Good-night, and happy dreams.” “Thanks, and the same good wishes. yood-night,” said I, in conclusion. I listened and’ heard them go down- stairs, enter the parlor and fasten the windows and secure the safety of the fire there, go in the back hall door and bolt and bar it—and finally go out by the front door and lock it after them. Fastened up as I was in the house, | did not feel myself quite in prison, cComicbooks Eom