any ghost."

"No, I guess not. But listen!"

Grandpa Ford was speaking again.

"Of course I don't believe in ghosts," he said, "and I only use that
name, speaking about the queer things at Great Hedge, because I don't
know what else to call them. Your mother," he went on to Daddy Bunker,
"calls it the same thing. We say the 'ghost' did this or that. In fact
we laugh over it and make fun of it. But, all the same, it is very
strange and queer, and I should like to have it stopped, or explained."

"Do you think Mr. Ripley can stop it or explain it?" asked Daddy Bunker.

"I should think he could," said Grandpa Ford. "Mr. Ripley owned Great
Hedge a long while before he sold it to me. He ought to know all about
the queer, big old house, and why there are so many strange noises in
it."

"Is the noise the ghost?" asked Mrs. Bunker.

"That's part of it."

"What's the other part?" Daddy Bunker queried.

"Well, it mostly is queer noises," said his stepfather. "I'll tell you
how it happened from the very beginning--the first night your mother and
I stayed at Great Hedge. It has been going on for some time, and at last
I thought I would come on here, see you, have a talk with Mr. Ripley,