was so much to see in the poultry yard that Sandy, Freddie, and Uncle Daniel lingered there until Martha appeared at the back door and rang the big dinner bell in a way that meant, “Hurry up! something will get cold if you don’t.”
And the something proved to be chicken pot-pie with dumplings that everybody loves. And after that there came apple pudding with hard sauce, just full of sugar.
“Is it a party?” Sandy whispered to Freddie, for he was not accustomed to more than bread and milk at his evening meal.
“Yes, I guess so,” ventured Freddie; “it’s because you came,” and then Dinah brought in little play cups of chocolate with jumbles on the side, and Mrs. Bobbsey said that would be better than the pudding for Freddie and Sandy.
“I guess I’ll just live here,” solemnly said the little stranger, as if his decision in such a matter should not be questioned.
“I guess you better!” Freddie agreed, “’cause it’s nicer than over there, isn’t it?”
“Lots,” replied Sandy, “only maybe Mrs. Manily will cry for me,” and he looked sad as his big blue eyes turned around and blinked to keep back some tears. “I dust love Mrs. Manily, Freddie; don’t you?” he asked wistfully.
Then Harry and Bert jumped up to start the phonograph, and that was like a band wagon to the little fellows, who liked to hear the popular tunes called off by the funny man in the big bright horn.
CHAPTER XX
A Midnight Scare
“Sometimes I’m afraid in the bed tent over there,” said Sandy to Freddie. “’Cause there ain’t nothing to keep the dark out but a piece of veil in the door.”
“Mosquito netting,” corrected Freddie. “I would be afraid to sleep outdoors that way too. ’Cause maybe there’s snakes.”
“There sure is,” declared the other little fellow, cuddling up closer to Freddie. “’Cause one of the boys, Tommy his name is, killed two the other day.”
“Well, there ain’t no snakes around here,” declared Freddie, “an’ this bed was put in this room, right next to mama’s, for me, so you needn’t be scared when Aunt Sarah comes and turns out the lights.”
Both little boys were very sleepy, and in spite of having so many things to tell each other the sand-man came around and interrupted them, actually making their eyes fall down like porch screens when someone touches the string.
Mrs. Bobbsey came up and looked in at the door.
Two little sunny heads so close together!
“Why should that little darling be left alone over in the dark tent!” she thought. “See how happy he is with our own dear son Freddie.”
Then she tucked them a little bit, half closed the door, and turned out the hall light.
Everybody must have been dreaming for hours, it seemed so at any rate, when suddenly all were awake again.
What was it?
What woke up the household with such a start?
“There it is again!” screamed Flossie. “Oh, mamma, mamma, come in my room quick!”
Sandy grabbed hold of Freddie.
“We’re all right,” whispered the brave little Freddie. “It’s only the girls that’s hollering.”
Then they both put their curls under the bedquilts.
“Someone’s playing the piano,” Bert said to Harry; and, sure enough, a nocturnal solo was coming up in strange chunks from the parlor.
“It’s a crazy burglar, and he never saw a piano before,” Flossie said.
The hall clock just struck midnight. That seemed to make everybody more frightened.
Uncle Daniel was hurrying down the stairs now.
“There it is again,” whispered Bert, as another group of wild chords came from the piano.
“It must be cats!” exclaimed Uncle Daniel. “Harry, come down here and help light up, and we’ll solve this mystery.”
Without a moment’s hesitation Bert and Harry were down the stairs and had the hall light burning as quickly as a good match could be struck.
But there was no more music and no cats about.
“Where is Snoop?” asked Uncle Daniel.
The boys opened the hall door into the cellarway, and found there Snoop on his cushion and Fluffy on hers.
“It wasn’t the cats,” they declared.
“What could it be?”
Uncle Daniel even lighted the piano lamp, which gave a strong light, but there didn’t seem to be any disturbance about.
“It certainly was the piano,” he said, much puzzled.
“And sounded like a cat serenade,” ventured Harry.
“Well, she isn’t around here,” laughed Uncle Daniel, “and we never heard of a ghost in Meadow Brook before.”
All this time the people upstairs waited anxiously. Flossie held Nan so tightly about the neck that the elder sister could hardly breathe. Freddie and Sandy were still under the bedclothes, while Mrs. Bobbsey and Aunt Sarah listened in the hall.
“Dat sure is a ghost,” whispered Dinah to Martha in the hall above. “Ghosts always lub music,” and her big eyes rolled.
“Ghosts nothin’,” replied Martha indignantly. “I dusted every key of the piano today, and I guess I could smell a ghost about as quick as anybody.”
“Well, I don’t see that we can do any good by sitting around here,” remarked Uncle Dan to the boys, after the lapse of some minutes. “We may as well put out the lights and get into bed again.”
“But I cannot see what it could be!” Mrs. Bobbsey insisted, as they all prepared to retire again.
“Neither can we!” agreed Uncle Daniel. “Maybe our piano has one of those self-playing tricks, and somebody wound it up by accident.”
But no sooner were the lights out and the house quiet than the piano started again.
“Hush! keep quiet!” whispered Uncle Daniel. “I’ll get it this time, whatever it is!”
With matches in one hand and a candle in the other he started downstairs in the dark without making a sound, while the piano kept on playing in “chunks” as Harry said, same as it did before.
Once in the parlor Uncle Daniel struck a match and put it to the candle, and then the music ceased.
“There he is!” he called, and Flossie thought she surely would die. Slam! went the music-book at something, and Sandy almost choked with fear.
Bang! went something else, that brought Bert and Harry downstairs to help catch the burglar.
“There he is in the corner!” called Uncle Daniel to the boys, and then began such a slam banging time that the people upstairs were in terror that the burglar would kill Harry and Bert and Uncle Daniel.
“We’ve got him’ We’ve got him!” declared Harry, while Bert lighted the lamp.
“Is he dead?” screamed Aunt Sarah from the stairs.
“As a door-nail!” answered Harry.
“What is it?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, hardly able to speak.
“A big gray rat,” replied Uncle Daniel, and everybody had a good laugh.
“I thought it might be that,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.
“So did I,” declared Nan. “But I wasn’t sure.”
“I