It did not take Jannet long to get ready for the expedition. Just before starting out of her room, she paused, her hand on the knob, for this room had more protection than the old-fashioned latches. Should she leave the pearls in the desk? They had disappeared from it before.

But where could she put them if she took them from the desk? Naturally she could not wear them. Windows and doors were open. She could hear the sounds of laughter from where her young friends were. She must hurry. She ran back to her windows, put them down and locked them firmly. Then she took her key from the lock, locked the door from the outside and pinned the key inside her sweater pocket.

“I’m the ‘foxy Jannet’ now,” she said to herself, thinking of one of Jan’s expressions. “Now if any one gets in,—I’ll know it’s some one with a key!”

Walking rapidly, past the door of Paulina’s room, down the back stairs, out of the back door, Jannet hastened to join her friends. Jan, mounted on a curveting black horse, was leading the animal intended for Jannet and cantered toward her, stopping at a high block. He started to dismount to help Jannet, but she waved him back. “Don’t get off, Jan. Pity if I can not get on myself. Is this the stump of the old black walnut that nearly killed you when it fell?”

“Who told you? Yes; if Chick hadn’t yelled in time, I’d have been under the trunk instead of being scratched up a little by some of the branches. You remember that wind storm, Nell?”

“Indeed I do. We didn’t know where you boys were and Mother was almost crazy till you came in after it was all over. I was sure that you were over here, but the telephone wires were down.”

“Why do I have Lucy, Jan? I thought that Uncle Pieter wanted me to ride Ben?”

“That is what took me so long, Jannet. I saddled Ben first and found that he went a little lame. Lucy is all right, only a little more skittish. She never runs away, but look out for her shying a little.”

“All right. I like Lucy better anyhow.”

Jannet was happy with the reins in her hand, for riding was her favorite sport. This pursuit of real country roads, away from hampering conditions of the city was what she called to Nell “real riding,” instead of “riding lessons.” Nell and John Clyde, or “Chick”, drew alongside as Jannet settled herself for the trip and patted her pretty steed.

“Did you know that you are going to have supper with us at home to-night, after our picnic dinner in the hills?” asked Nell.

“No, I didn’t. What fun! But Jan, shan’t we take something for the picnic?”

“Of course,” Jan answered, with a grin. “Say, I forgot all about that. Good thing that you spoke of it.” Jan turned his horse toward the house. “I told P’lina, though. There she comes now.”

From the back door Paulina this moment made her appearance with a package in her hands. As she approached, her sharp nose looked sharper than ever. Her solemn eyes surveyed the riders with no display of interest and her stolid face was without a smile. A small shawl decorated her shoulders, pinned across her breast, but the tight knot of black hair was without a covering and the spring breeze blew a wiry wisp over her forehead.

“I think that it is going to rain,” said she shortly, as she gave the neat package to Jan, with something for tying it to his saddle. She had given a curt nod in the direction of the Clydes.

“Oh, now, Paulina,” said Jan, grinning down at her, “don’t be a calamity howler. We’ll get under a rock somewhere if it does. Any other woes that you can think of?”

Jannet was quite shocked at Jan’s frankness and expected to see “Old P’lina” show some offense. Far from this, the stony features almost relaxed into a smile, so Jannet thought. “Be careful,” Paulina said. “An owl hooted all last night and the ghost walked over my head.” With this cheerful announcement, Paulina turned away.

“What did Paulina mean, ‘over her head’?” asked Nell Clyde.

“Rats in the attic, Nell. I heard ’em, too.” So Jan explained.

But Paulina had overheard and looked back over her shoulder. “We have no rats,” said she, “and rats don’t tiptoe down imaginary stairs. It was her again.”

Jan looked cross, but he said nothing further as Paulina rapidly walked toward the house. Jannet fancied that Jan did not like to have Paulina’s superstitions aired before the Clydes. There was enough talk in the neighborhood, in all probability.

Chick urged his horse on, passing Jannet and Nell, but Jan, as he followed, leaned over to Jannet. “Paulina is an old goose,” said he in a low tone. “Her imagination works all night. Don’t pay any attention to what she says.”

This was funny, for Jan had seemed to enjoy joking Jannet about it before now. Boys must be odd creatures,—but Jan and Chick were pretty good at that!

“I wish that we had a family ghost,” laughed Nell, as she drew her horse beside Lucy. “Have you seen yours, yet, Jannet?”

“I am not sure that I would know it if I saw it,” replied Jannet, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Let me come to stay all night with you some time, Jannet, and perhaps the ghost will walk for us.”

“If the ghost should walk, I’d be glad to have company, I can tell you, and I’ll love to have you any time. I suppose I’ll have to ask Cousin Di or Uncle Pieter first, though.”

“Of course you will, and I’d better not be inviting myself over!”

“Don’t think of that, Nell. I’m sure that it can be arranged and I’m glad that you thought of it. You haven’t had a peep at my dear room yet.”

“No, I haven’t, and I have never even been inside of that old part of the Van Meter place, though Chick is there so much when Jan is home. Do you suppose that we could see the attic, too?”

“That might depend on Paulina. I haven’t asked to go there yet. I’ve felt a little timid, you know, just coming. The only place where I feel that I have a real right is in my mother’s room. But Jan goes all over and has a den in the attic, and he isn’t nearly so much related as I am.”

“I heard a neighbor say once, Jannet, that your uncle Pieter had treated your mother shamefully and had beaten her out of a lot of property that she ought to have had. I don’t suppose that I ought to tell you this and perhaps it isn’t true, but if it is, you ought to know it.”

“Yes. But I do not believe it. People gossip. Why should he send for me?” This from Jannet, in spite of her most recent suspicions!

“Remorse,” laughed Nell.

“Uncle Pieter was a lot older than my mother and perhaps he wanted to have his own way about things, but I’ll not believe yet that he is dishonest. I’m going to stand up for my people, Nell, now that I have found them. Mother must have died before my grandfather, so how could Uncle Pieter cut her out of her rights?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. I’m surely grateful to Uncle Pieter for finding me,” said Jannet, to close the subject.

Jannet was a thoughtful girl, and she had determined not to lose sight of what Uncle Pieter had done for her in sending for her. She had her own doubts, particularly since finding her mother’s diary notes and the slip of paper in the library book, but none of the neighbors should suspect them.

Jannet did not know whether she liked her uncle or not. She was attracted sometimes, then again his coldness and reserve repelled her. He had not offered to have any explanatory talk with her so far, though she realized that the spring work on the large place was engaging his attention. He was out of the house most of the time either upon his horse about the farm, or on business errands away from the neighborhood. Jannet had not inquired what his interests were, for she was not informed about such matters.

Her cousin Andrew Jannet loved already. Jan was a jolly companion, and Mrs. Holt was everything that a girl could ask for in a kind chaperon. She was not demonstrative, but then, Jannet was not used to demonstrative affection. Paulina was the “funniest.” She was silent, matter-of-fact, and stiff, but Jannet knew that “Old P’lina” missed nothing of what was going on at the Van Meter home.

Nell Clyde was a plump, sturdy little thing, but active for all her plumpness, sitting her horse well as the girls now pushed their mounts forward a little to catch up with the boys. Nell had been seized with a great admiration for the graceful, golden-haired Jannet and had already confided her dreams to her as she had not done to any of the other girls whom she knew. Jannet, more accustomed to many girl friends, had been more reserved so far about her own affairs, though she was delighted to find so congenital a girl so near.

No unhappy thoughts were Jannet’s to-day. The pleasure of riding, the fresh air, the morning sunshine, and the quiet memory of the lovely thing hid at home in her desk brought her spirits to a high pitch. P’lina must certainly be mistaken, for there was scarcely a cloud. Lucy behaved with great decorum after a long gallop over a good stretch in the road, during which the horses worked off any excess of spirits that they may have possessed at the start.

The Clyde place was on their way and Chick dashed in to get their share of the lunch, which was not ready when they had ridden over for Jannet and Jan. Jannet laughed as she watched Chick, for with a boy’s nonsense, he spread out his elbows at a ridiculous angle, leaned forward in his saddle, letting himself be lifted up and jolted down in a comical exhibition of bad riding. Flapping the reins, he loudly chirruped to his long-suffering animal.

“Ichabod Crane!” exclaimed the amused Jannet; and Nell, who was familiar also with Irving’s Legend of Sleepy Hollow, remarked that Chick was almost lanky enough to fit the character.

The boys were sure that the folks had not put up enough lunch, but Nell’s more practiced eye measured the two packages. “Don’t you worry,” said she. “There’s a whole fried chicken in each, or I miss my guess.”

Over devious ways, where Jannet knew that she would be lost, the little party of four went into the hills and among the pines. Here and there a little stream with its trickling waters helped to make the beauty of the way. Jannet kept thinking that it was her mother’s home country. “I wonder if my mother used to ride,” she said to Jan.

“Sure she did. Andy said something yesterday about her having a horse called Juniper that threw her once and pretty nearly ended her life then and there. How queer that you have all this to find out!”

“Yes, and that’s the advantage of being here for a while. Things come out gradually, just the sort of little everyday things that you would like to know. What are we going to do up here besides the picnic lunch, Nell?”

“Just see things, and find wild flowers, and see what birds are back. Chick has to take a list back to one of his teachers that wants to know when certain birds come here. We’re going to hitch the horses here, or let them graze a little, if there’s anything to graze on, while we climb higher to a grand place to see the valley and to spread our lunch.”

“Any snakes?” Jannet inquired.

“We are not likely to see any here, and it is so open up on the rocks that it will not be damp. Mother warned me not to have the lunch where it was damp, but this sun will dry anything off.”

The boys ungallantly went off by themselves for some time, reporting early for lunch. Chick had seen a chickadee, a tufted titmouse, a song sparrow, a purple finch and a woodcock. The girls had a handful of flowers, which they had picked carefully not to destroy the roots.

This was all very wholesome for Jannet, who had not taken much interest in nature study at Miss Hilliard’s school and the Marcys did not have that except in a very general way in their summer curriculum of good times. Her mind was far away from ghosts and problems of all sorts while the picnic lasted. But Paulina was right in her prophecy. It did rain, though not until their good lunch was eaten and its crumbs scattered for the birds.

First there were a few scattered drops, then a little shower, which made them all run for their raincoats. But then they noticed that it looked very black in one portion of the sky. “We’d better get out of here, girls,” said Chick. “It may be a thunderstorm and we oughtn’t to be among the trees.”

Down they scrambled from the heights, found their horses and made their way as quickly as possible from the hills to the level country. Distant thunder began to be heard, and clouds collected thickly. The girls said nothing, but they did not enjoy the prospect. Then it began to rain, moderately at first. Chick motioned to Jannet to ride up with him, while Jan fell back with Nell.

Leaning over toward Jannet, while they were urging their horses forward, Chick told her that he and Jan thought it best to strike off from the main road about half a mile to where an “old settler” lived. “Do you mind?” Chick asked.

“Why should I?” asked Jannet. “It’s better than being soaked, or scared to death with the lightning.”

Chick laughed. “Are you afraid?”

“Not very, but it isn’t especially safe.”

Nothing more was said. In a moment they had reached the turn in the road and were making their way as fast as a very poor little side road would permit. Puddles and mud-holes had to be avoided. The birds were taking to cover as well as they. Chick pointed ahead to where a small farmhouse stood, not far away. It was not a very prepossessing place, even at a distance, but it promised shelter.

The driveway was open, fortunately, for the rain was coming down in sheets, as they galloped into it and drew up their horses under an open shed. The bombardment had begun. One sharp flash succeeded another and the crashes of thunder were of terrific violence. “This is one April shower that I don’t care for,” Nell remarked, as she had difficulty in holding her frightened horse.

But Chick dismounted and held both her horse and his own. “Get off your horse, Jannet,” said he, “it is better. Jan, you’d better do the same.”

“Come, Lucy, it’s all right,” soothingly Jannet said to the pretty mare she rode, as she dismounted. Jan reached his hand to Lucy’s bridle while Jannet and Nell withdrew a little from too close proximity to prancing horses and threatening heels.

Rain beating in from the opposite side, drove the party to the side of the shed nearest the house, which was not far away. There, at a side door, as the electrical display lessened somewhat, a curious figure appeared. It was bent and old, a sharp chin and piercing black eyes the most noticeable features under an old-fashioned cap. A red and black shoulder shawl, something like that which Paulina often wore, was pinned about the rounding shoulders. A long, blue calico dress came almost to the floor. The aged woman peered out and over to the little company under the shed. Jan and Chick touched their caps and the girls bowed, but no explanation seemed necessary. The storm would account for their presence.

“Who lives there?” Jannet asked of Nell, the noise of the rain making it unnecessary to lower her voice.

“It’s one of the old Dutch farms and that is the grandmother of the farmer’s wife. They are odd people, and they say that this old lady is half Indian and half gypsy. She is past ninety years old. She tells fortunes, and buys her tobacco.”

“Tobacco!”

“Sure, she smokes a pipe,” laughed Chick, who had overheard. “The women now use cigarettes, don’t they?”

“Not any that I know, Chick,” smiled Jannet. “Miss Hilliard says that she is training ‘ladies,’ not the ‘sporting class.’ A girl who tried out smoking in our school would get sent home too quickly to know whether she was coming or going. That’s in the printed rules.”

“The whole of it?” laughingly asked Jan.

“I don’t mean the way I put it. You know that. I mean that the rule is against smoking. It does say, though, that young ladies who have the habit are requested to go elsewhere.”

“Look, Jannet, she’s beckoning to us,” Nell interrupted.

Jannet noticed that Jan and Chick felt in their pockets. “I’ve got enough change, Chick,” said Jan. “The poor old woman sees a chance to make a little money, and it’s kind of nice of her to ask us in out of the rain.”

“Gracious!” Nell exclaimed. “It will smell of stale tobacco smoke and I don’t know what else, in there,—but all right, if you boys want to. A fire would feel pretty good, as wet as we are, and I know that they will have one.”

Jannet did not know that she cared to try it, but she would not make any objection, she thought. She would do what the rest did, though she did not want her fortune told,—she could get out of that.

The boys saw that the horses were firmly hitched to the posts of the shed and presently all of them dashed across the yielding, puddly grass and ground to the little stoop of the house. A plump woman of past middle age had come to the door by this time, while the old lady hobbled back to a chair by the fire. She was moving aside to make room for the guests when they entered.

“Come right in,” pleasantly said the younger woman. “You got caught in one of the worst storms we’ve had yet. I’ll hang up your raincoats in the kitchen and you can dry out a little before the fire. That rain would go through anything!”

“It’s around the edges that we are wettest,” said Nell, going on to explain about their picnic and inquiring about the health of the family and the grandmother in particular.

The grand-daughter, in the kitchen door, noting that her grandmother’s back was turned to her, shook her head and tapped it with her fingers, to indicate that the old lady’s mind was not just what it should be, but answered cheerfully, “Oh, Grandma is coming on all right. She can hear as well as anybody, see well enough to read the paper, and she’ll be ninety-three to-morrow.”

“If that’s so, we’ll have to send her something to-morrow,” said kindly Nell, “and wish her many happy returns.”

Jannet, altogether inexperienced in country life, was getting a glimpse of the kindly, helpful feeling that exists in many such neighborhoods. She stood at one side, near the blaze, which the farmer’s wife tried to make burn more briskly.

“Who’s the girl?” bluntly asked the old lady.

“Oh, I forgot,” hastily said Nell. “This is Jannet Eldon, who has come to live with her uncle Pieter. Jannet, this is Mrs. Meer,—and her grandmother.”

“Jannet Eldon, huh? Jannet. That was the name of the girl,—so you are Pieter’s niece, then?”

“Yes’m,” said Jannet, smiling at the old lady and looking at her with interest. “Did you know my mother?”

“I saw her often enough. You look like her. I told her fortune once, and I’ll tell yours.”

Janet shrank back a little, scarcely conscious that she did so. “Thank you, I don’t believe that I want to have you do that. I’d rather not know, even if you can tell it.”

“You don’t believe in fortune telling, then. I’ll not hurt you. If I read anything bad in your hand, I’ll not tell you that.”

The old woman’s voice rose shrilly, and Mrs. Meer looked rather distressed. But Jannet’s warm heart came to the rescue of the situation. It certainly could do no harm to satisfy the old woman. “Well, maybe it would be fun, then,—if you won’t tell me of any ‘bad luck’,” and Jannet playfully shook her finger in warning.

She could see that “Grandmother,” whose name she had not been told, was pleased. Her toothless mouth widened into a smile. She laid aside her pipe, which, as Nell had said, had been filling the room with a disagreeable smoke. “Sit down,” she said. Jannet drew up a small wooden stool and held out her hand. Jan, with noble promptness, laid a fifty cent piece upon the mantel, hoping, as he told Jannet afterward, that the fortune would not scare her to death. The aged woman saw it and the dark eyes gleamed.

Wrinkled fingers took the young, delicate hand. “They thought that you were dead,” she mumbled. Jannet did not know whether this were part of the fortune or not, but it was not particularly pleasant.

The old crone went on with a few facts about Jannet’s past life, facts that any one could guess at, Nell said afterward. Then she took up Jannet’s character, cleverly setting forth some traits that Jannet recognized, though none that were not more or less flattering.

“Gee, she’s giving you a good line, Jannet,” said Chick.

“Sh-sh, you’re interrupting her,” warned Nell.

It grew more interesting. “Some one has looked for you,” said the old woman, “some one not your uncle. If you are found, it will bring you good luck. You have had a loss, but you will find what you look for. There will be something strange in your uncle’s house, but do not be frightened. Nothing will harm you.

“Many like you. Some you can not trust, but you will find them out. I see a long journey. You will live to marry, perhaps twice. That is not clear. I see a long life and much happiness. You will have good luck this year and something will happen that you do not expect. That is all.”

As if tired, the old lady dropped Jannet’s hand. “I never told your fortune, Jan Holt. You have not lived here long.”

“Say, you know my name already,” said Jan, as if that were a sign of great cleverness. “Now give me a good one.”

One by one the boys and girls had their fortunes told and left almost all the change which the boys possessed upon the mantel. Then they began to gather up their coats and other articles of wearing apparel, feeling pretty well dried out by the heat from the fireplace. The storm had ceased before the aged grandmother had finished. Rapidly the four covered the distance remaining between this place and that of the Clydes, where they were to have dinner together. Nell promised to let Jannet wear one of her frocks, if necessary, for Jannet had started in such a hurry that she had not realized how odd it might be to eat dinner in her riding clothes.

“I’ll certainly look funny in a dress of yours, Nell,—I’d better wear one of your mother’s, or else ride on home. But if you don’t mind I could wear these things; they are dry now.”

“We’ll fix you up some way, Jannet. Don’t worry.”

“Say, Jannet,” soberly said Jan, “may I be your second husband?”

“Second husband!” ejaculated Jannet, a grin beginning to spread her pretty mouth.

“Yep. I wouldn’t want to be the first, because he may die, according to the old gypsy. Of course, I’ll probably marry, and then my wife may have objections to the arrangement.”

“You crazy boy! I believe that you’d make fun about anything! Yes, I’ll ‘consider your application,’ as Miss Hilliard says. But I’m only going to marry somebody very wonderful, and he’ll not dare leave me till I’m as old as Grandma Meer, or whatever her name is.”

“Some outlandish name,” said Nell, “that I’ve heard and forgotten.”

“Chick, she says that she is only going to marry somebody very wonderful. That settles it. It isn’t me. Honestly, Jannet, she read you a pretty good fortune; but some of it was queer. Of course, you know that the whole countryside knows about our ghost, so she could make up anything there.”

“I don’t mind, and I’m going to forget it, Jan. Poor old soul! Are you really going to take her something to-morrow, Nell? I’d like to do something, too, even tobacco!”

“Why, Jannet!” said Jan in falsetto tones, as if representing Jannet’s school, shocked beyond words.

Jannet gave Jan a solemn glance, drawing her mouth down at the corners and rolling her blue eyes. Then, grinning again, she said, “Grandma Meer is too old to reform, Jan. Besides, if it isn’t wicked for Cousin Andy to smoke, it isn’t wicked for Grandma Meer. And she doesn’t have to be a lady.”

This conversation took place on the way from the Clyde barns to the house. The four sauntered along in the highest of spirits, though it was almost too near dinner time, or, more properly here, supper time, for them to linger.

A skirt-and-tunic dress of Nell’s was found possible to arrange for Jannet, and more fun was in prospect when by the telephone it was arranged for Jannet and Jan to stay all night. “And may we have Nell and Chick over to-morrow night, Cousin Di?” Jannet asked sweetly.

“Of course you may. Jan often has Chick. I don’t know how it has happened that we have not had him more this time. You and Nell ought to have great fun in the ‘haunted’ room. I’ll have Paulina cook you something, too.”

“Thank you, Cousin Di.” Turning, after hanging up the receiver, Jannet clasped her hands together in delight, as she communicated the results of her telephoning to the rest. “Oh, we can stay, and Cousin Di was too cordial for words about your coming over to-morrow night, Nell and Chick. Paulina will cook up something and we’ll have a little evening party of it, I guess.”

“Good,” said Jan. “Let’s hope that the ghost will walk.”

“Mercy, no, Jan,—not really,” said Jannet.