garden. Then, if anybody's blood ever did freeze, Faith Meredith's certainly froze at that moment The eyes of Carl and Una followed her entranced gaze and chills began gallopading up and down their spines also. For there, under the big tamarack tree on the tumbledown, grass-grown dyke of the Bailey garden, was a something white—shapelessly white in the gathering gloom. The three Merediths sat and gazed as if turned to stone.
"It's—it's the—calf," whispered Una at last.
"It's—too—big—for the calf," whispered Faith. Her mouth and lips were so dry she could hardly articulate the words.
Suddenly Carl gasped,
"It's coming here."
The girls gave one last agonized glance. Yes, it was creeping down over the dyke, as no calf ever did or could creep. Reason fled before sudden, over-mastering panic. For the moment every one of the trio was firmly convinced that what they saw was Henry Warren's ghost. Carl sprang to his feet and bolted blindly. With a simultaneous shriek the girls followed him. Like mad creatures they tore up the hill, across the road and into the manse. They had left Aunt Martha sewing in the kitchen. She was not there. They rushed to the study. It was dark and tenantless. As with one impulse, they swung around and made for Ingleside—but not across Rainbow Valley. Down the hill and through the Glen street they flew on the wings
