The Moffats (11 page)

Sylvie hoisted Madame up before her and climbed in. Then Rufus handed up his scooter and hoisted himself in. As Jane was making her way up, Catherine-the-cat leaped past her and disappeared into the dark recesses of the attic. Jane bit her tongue but managed to keep from screaming. That cat! She was always doing unexpected things behind you.

The four Moffats stood around the entrance, the nearest point to the kitchen, to safety. Joe's tiny flashlight scarcely penetrated the darkness of the attic. But they knew what was up here all right without seeing. Dr. Witty had had many different hobbies. Collecting and stuffing wild animals and birds was one of them. He stored these in the attic in the yellow house. In one corner was a stuffed owl. In another, a stuffed wildcat. And all around were a great many little stuffed partridges and quail. The four children shivered, partly from cold, partly from excitement.

"Oh, let's hurry and get out of this place," said Jane.

They placed the scooter in the corner by the owl. Then they put Madame on the scooter, put the pumpkin head with its ominous, gaping mouth on her headless neck, and draped the sheets about her. They tied one end of the rope to the scooter and made a loop in the other end in order to be able to pull the ghost around easily. The end of the rope with the loop they placed near the hatchway.

"All right," said Sylvie. "Now let's see how she looks."

They went to the head of the ladder. Joe flashed his light on Madame—Madame-the-bust no longer, or Mrs. Shoemaker or Miss Nippon, either, but Madame-the-ghost!

"Phew!" he whistled.

"Boy, oh, boy!" said Rufus.

"Oh," shivered Jane, "come on."

As fast as they could, they pushed the hatch back in place and hurried helter-skelter to the kitchen, where they warmed their hands over the kitchen fire.

"Boy, oh, boy!" said Rufus again, "what a ghost!"

Then they all put on the most fearful masks that Sylvie had made for them. And just in the nick of time, too, for here was Peter Frost stamping on the back porch.

"Hey there, Moffats," he said witheringly. "Where's your old ghost then?"

Oh, his arrogance was insufferable.

"Don't worry," said Sylvie, "you'll see her all right. But you must be quiet."

"Haw-haw," jeered Peter Frost.

But he stopped short, for out of the night came a long-drawn howl, a howl of reproach.

Sylvie, Joe, Jane, and Rufus had the same thought. Catherine-the-cat! They had forgotten her up there with the ghost. But Peter Frost! Why, he knew nothing of that, of course, and although he was inclined to toss the matter lightly aside, still he blanched visibly when again from some mysterious dark recess of the house came the same wild howl.

The four Moffats knew when to be silent and they were silent now. So was Peter Frost. So was the whole house. It was so silent it began to speak with a thousand voices. When Mama's rocking chair creaked, Peter Frost looked at it as though he expected to see the ghost sitting right in it. Somewhere a shutter came unfastened and banged against the house with persistent regularity. The clock in the sitting room ticked slowly, painfully, as though it had a lump in its throat; then stopped altogether. Even the Moffats began to feel scared, particularly Rufus. He began to think this whole business on a par with G-R-I-N-D your bones in "Jack and the Beanstalk."

Peter Frost swallowed his breath with a great gulp and said in a voice a trifle less jeering, "Well, what're we waitin' for? I want to see yer old ghost."

"Very well, then," said the four Moffats in solemn voices. "Follow us."

Again they left the warm safety of the kitchen, mounted the inky black stairs to the second floor, each one holding to the belt of the one in front. When they reached the stepladder, they paused a moment to count heads.

"Aw, you don't think I'm gonna skin out without seeing your silly old ghost, do yer?" asked Peter Frost. However, blustering though his words were, there could be no doubt that his hand, the one that held on to Joe's belt, was shaking and shaking.

"Now we go up the stepladder," said Joe in a hoarse whisper. "I'll push open the hatch."

Cautiously the five mounted the stepladder. It seemed to lead to a never-ending pit of darkness.

"Why don't you light your flash?" asked Peter Frost, doing his best to sound carefree and easy.

"And scare away the ghost, I suppose," snorted Joe. "You know, a ghost isn't comin' out where there's a light and all this many people. That is, unless there's a certain one around it happens to be interested in."

Another howl interrupted Joe's words. This sounded so close to them now that the four Moffats were afraid Peter Frost would recognize the voice of Catherine-the-cat. But he didn't. He began to shake and shake more violently than ever, making the stepladder they were standing on shiver and creak.

Joe pushed the trapdoor up with his shoulders. It fell open with a groan just as it had done before. They all climbed in and stood on the attic floor. Except for a pale glow from the light below, the attic was in the thickest blackness. For a moment they stood there in silence. Then suddenly Joe gave a swift flash into the corner of the attic. It fell for a second on the stuffed wildcat.

Peter Frost started but said not a word.

Then swiftly Joe flashed the light in the other corner. The stuffed owl stared at them broodingly.

But Peter Frost said nothing.

And then Joe flashed his light on Madame-the-ghost, herself. There she was, lurking in the corner, her orange head gaping horribly. All the children gasped, but still Peter Frost said nothing. All of a sudden, without any warning whatsoever, Madame-the-ghost started careening madly toward them. And dragging heavy chains behind her too, from the sound.

Jane called out in a shrill voice:

"Peter Frost! Peter Frost!
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!"

Joe flashed his light on and off rapidly. Madame-the-ghost dashed wildly round and round the attic. The same howl rent the air! The shutters banged. Then Peter Frost let out a roar of terror. That THING was after HIM. He tore around the attic room, roaring like a bull. And the ghost, dragging its horrible chains, tore after him.

"Let me go," he bellowed. But he couldn't find the hatch.

Around the attic and around the attic he stumbled, kicking over stuffed partridges and quail. Finally he tripped over the wildcat and sprawled on the floor. Joe flashed his light on them for a second and when Peter Frost saw that he was sitting on the wildcat, he let out another piercing yell and leaped to his feet. He had seen now where the hatch was and he meant to escape before that ghost could catch up with him. Again he tripped and was down once more, this time with the ghost right on top of him. She would smother him with those ghastly robes of hers.

"She's got me! She's got me!" he roared.

Frantically he shook himself free of the ghost, and in wild leaps he made again for the hatch.

But now Rufus and Jane, too, had stood all they could of this nerve-racking business. They both began howling with fright and screaming, "Mama, Mama!" What with Peter Frost's yelling, Catherine-the-cat's yowling, the screams of Rufus and Jane, Sylvie herself began laughing hysterically and the place sounded like bedlam. To make matters worse, the battery of Joe's flashlight gave out, so there was no way of turning on the blessed light and showing everyone there was no real ghost.

No, the ghost was real enough to Peter Frost, and as he finally reached the hatch and clattered down the stairs he thought he could still feel its cold breath on his neck and cheeks. The four Moffats followed after him, half tumbling, half sliding, until they reached the kitchen. Peter Frost tore out the back door with a bang and left the four of them there in the kitchen, breathless and sobbing and laughing all at once.

"Phew," gasped Joe. "Some ghost, I'll say!"

"'Twas real then?" said Rufus, getting ready to howl again.

"Of course not, silly," said Joe, whose courage had returned. "Come on, though. We've got to get the things down. Mama'll be home in a minute. Sylvie better carry the little lamp."

Rufus and Jane did not want to go back into that attic. They'd had enough of ghosts and goblins. But neither did they want to stay down in the kitchen alone. So up to the attic the four went once more. And with all the light made from the little lamp Rufus could see there wasn't any real ghost at all. Just Madame and the pumpkin head he'd stuck his own teeth into and his own scooter that Catherine-the-cat, caught in the loop of the rope, was dragging around and around.

Swiftly Sylvie unloosened the cat. She gave them all a triumphant leer and leaped down the hatch with short meows. Next they dismantled the ghost and returned Madame to the Grape Room, where Sylvie dressed her again in Mrs. Shoemaker's new dress. The pumpkin head had received many bad cracks, but they put it in the sitting room window with a candle lit inside of it, where it looked quite jolly and altogether harmless.

Then they sat down to talk the evening over. They agreed the ghost had been a success.

"That'll teach him to be always tormentin' the life outta us," said Jane with a yawn.

"Sh-h-h," warned Sylvie. "Here comes Mama."

Mama came in the door. She took off her hat and wiped the tears that the wind had put there from her eyes.

"Goodness," she said. "The witches certainly must be out tonight all right enough. I just passed Peter Frost racing like sixty up the street. He muttered some gibberish about a ghost being after him. And look at Catherine! She looks as though she's preparing for a wild night. And why, for goodness' sakes! Will you look here, please?" Mama's voice went on from the Grape Room where she had gone to hang her hat. "Just look here! Mrs. Shoemaker's dress is turned completely around. The hobgoblins must have done it." (Here Rufus smothered his laughter in his brown chubby fist.) "Well, well..." she continued, "let's bob for apples..."

The Moffats all went to Miss Chichester's dancing school in Moose Hall. They didn't have to pay Miss Chichester a penny for their lessons. Mama did a great deal of sewing for Miss Chichester and she was not always able to settle her bills with Mama. Mama said they should strike a bargain. The way Miss Chichester might settle her bills was to give all the Moffats dancing lessons free. Or rather, all except Rufus. Rufus would go as soon as he was a little older. Although, for that matter, as far as age went he really could go now. Hughie Pudge was in the dancing class and he was only six, just a few months older than Rufus. But he and Rufus always got into a dispute, which ended in a big fight. Or else they spent their time firing spitballs from their slingshots at the moose heads at each end of the hall. Naturally these doings upset the class. One or the other, therefore, must be kept out. Since Rufus did not pay for his lessons and Hughie did, of course Rufus was the one Miss Chichester felt she would have to get along without. Rufus did not mind in the least being deprived of dancing lessons. He much preferred playing marbles or riding his scooter.