Fred Bailey looked at Ben’s mother. She nodded permission and Ben was off like a shot. “Won’t you sit down and have a cup of coffee with us,” asked Mrs. Seymour, “to celebrate our first morning?” “I don’t know but what I might,” said Fred Bailey. “Only don’t leave that pail o’ milk out there by the door for a minute.” And he picked it up and handed it to Ann. “It’ll be tipped over the second you take your eyes off it.” “Your barn cats come over this far for milk?” inquired Mr. Seymour laughing. “They can smell a good thing from a long distance.” “It ain’t no cats that dump it out on me,” said Fred soberly. “And I think that I’d better warn you, first thing. It’s the spirits, the spirits from the ship. They pester me almost to death, dumping out the milk from pails, and they tear up the packages left beside the door. You don’t want to leave nothin’ about.” 32 “You think that ship is haunted?” Mrs. Seymour poured out a big cup of coffee. 32 Helen had gone already and Ann hoped that neither of her parents would notice that she had stayed. She made as little noise as possible with the milk pans and then came and sat down quietly. She saw her mother’s eye wander toward her but she smiled pleadingly, hoping that her mother would know she could not be frightened by any story about ghosts. Fred was evidently glad to talk, once he had started on the subject. “I shouldn’t wonder but what something was aboard that boat that shouldn’t be there. I know this much—I’ve been bothered uncommon ever since she came ashore, and not by human beings.” “How did she happen to be wrecked?” Mr. Seymour was as eager as Ann for the story, now that he felt sure that a story existed. “She struck last winter in January,” began Fred, settling himself more comfortably in his chair. “It was during the worst storm we’ve had in these parts in the last hundred years.” “It must have been a howler,” commented Mr. Seymour. Mr. Bailey nodded soberly. “You’re right, I never saw nothin’ like it,” he said. “The storm had been brewing for days and we could feel it coming long before it struck us up here; there was warning enough in the Boston paper. Then the sea grew flat33 and shining without a hint of a whitecap on her. The wind was so strong it just pressed right down and smothered the
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