Uncanny Tales. Molesworth Mrs.

taken at their recommendation.

      "In fact," said father with a rather rueful smile, "if we don't take care, we shall begin to be looked upon askance as a haunted family! Our lives would have been in danger in the good old witchcraft days."

      "It is really a mercy that none of the servants have got hold of the story," said Miss Larpent, who was one of our council of three. "We must just hope that no further annoyance will befall us till we are safe at home again."

      Her hopes were fulfilled. Nothing else happened while we remained at the Rectory – it really seemed as if the unhappy shade was limited locally, in one sense. For at Finster, even, it had never been seen or felt save in the one room.

      The vividness of the impression of poor Nat's experience had almost died away when the time came for us to leave. I felt now that I should rather enjoy telling Phil and Nugent about it, and hearing what they could bring forward in the way of explanation.

      We left Raxtrew early in October. Our two big brothers were awaiting us at home, having arrived there a few days before us. Nugent was due at Oxford very shortly.

      It was very nice to be in our own house again, after several months' absence, and it was most interesting to see how the alterations, including a good deal of new papering and painting, had been carried out. And as soon as the heavy luggage arrived we had grand consultations as to the disposal about the rooms of the charming pieces of furniture we had picked up at Hunter's. Our rooms are large and nicely shaped, most of them. It was not difficult to make a pretty corner here and there with a quaint old chair or two and a delicate spindle-legged table, and when we had arranged them all – Phil, Nugent, and I, were the movers – we summoned mother and Miss Larpent to give their opinion.

      They quite approved, mother even saying that she would be glad of a few more odds and ends.

      "We might empower Janet Miles," she said, "to let us know if she sees anything very tempting. Is that really all we have? They looked so much more important in their swathings."

      The same idea struck me. I glanced round.

      "Yes," I said, "that's all, except – oh, yes, there are the tapestry "portières" – the best of all. We can't have them in the drawing-room, I fear. It is too modern for them. Where shall we hang them?"

      "You are forgetting, Leila," said mother. "We spoke of having them in the hall. They will do beautifully to hang before the two side doors, which are seldom opened. And in cold weather the hall is draughty, though nothing like the gallery at Finster."

      Why did she say that? It made me shiver, but then, of course, she did not know.

      Our hall is a very pleasant one. We sit there a great deal. The side doors mother spoke of are second entrances to the dining-room and library – quite unnecessary, except when we have a large party, a dance or something of that sort. And the "portières" certainly seemed the very thing, the mellow colouring of the tapestry showing to great advantage. The boys – Phil and Nugent, I mean – set to work at once, and in an hour or two the hangings were placed.