Mellen set old Benson about some other duties and went into the library. While he stood at one of the windows, looking gloomily out on the autumn landscape, he heard the voices of 'Dolf and his spinster inamorata in the area below.

"What's marster gwine to have done to de tree?" Clo asked.

"He's afeared it's deceasin'," replied Dolf, pompously, "and he wishes to perwent."

"Don't come none o' yer furrin lingo over me," said Clorinda, angrily. "Can't yer say what he's gwine to do, widout any of dem dern outlandish Spanish 'spressions."

"'Twarn't Spanish, lubly one," said 'Dolf, greatly delighted at the effect his grandiloquent language had produced. "Sometimes I do 'dulge in far away tongues jist from habit; its' trabeling so much, you know."

"Don't know nothin' about it, and don't want to," interrupted Clorinda. "Ef yer can't answer a civil question as it outer be, yer needn't stay round dis part of de house."

"Don't be ravagerous," returned Dolf. "Any question ob yours it is my delight to answer, only propose it."

"I does, plainly enough. What's marster gwine to have done to dat ar ole tree?"

"Hab de airth dug up," said Dolf, deeming it wiser to use a more simple phraseology; "he's 'feared it's dying."

Mellen was about to order them away from that part of the house—the veriest trifle irritated him now—when Clorinda's next words made him pause.

"I wish he'd hev it dug up by the roots," she said; "I do 'lieve dat ar tree is haunted."

"Haunted!" screamed Dolf, who possessed a large share of the superstition of his race. "Now what does yer mean, Miss Clorindy?"

"Jes' what I ses," replied she sharply; "I ain't one ob de kind dat tittervates up my words till dey haint got no sense left."

"But I never heerd of a haunted tree," said Dolf, gaining new courage as he remembered that it was broad daylight. "Haunted houses I've heerd on in plenty; but a tree——"

"Oh, mebby yer don't know eberything yet!" said Clo, viciously.

Clo had been rather short with her lover of late, having interrupted several private flirtations of Victoria, with the faithless one.

"Do tell me what yer mean, Clorindy," pleaded Dolf, his eyes fairly started out of his head with curiosity.

"Oh, mebby you'd better go to Vic," she retorted, "she's a heap cuter dan what I be. I ain't coffee-colored, I'se only a nigger."

"Now, Miss Clorindy!" cried Dolf, understanding that this was an occasion when flattery and soft words were absolutely necessary. "You know I'se ales in for de genuine article."

"Don't know nothin' ob de sort," said Clo. "I kint flirty and flighty about like some folks; but, anyhow, I ain't fool enough to put all my wages on my back. I guess marster cud tell what I've got in de bank."

That allusion to her golden charms drove the youthful graces of Victoria quite out of Dolf's head. He grew more tender and submissive at once.

"Yer's de pearl ob de creation!" he cried enthusiastically.

Mellen stamped his foot passionately, furious with their nonsense, upbraiding himself that he could listen to the conversation of his own servants, yet unable to move away without hearing the revelation which Clorinda evidently had to make.

After a little more persuasive eloquence which began to restore Clorinda's good-humor, Dolf said:

"But do tell me what yer means 'bout de tree?"

"No," said Clorinda, mysteriously; "it's one ob dem tings as is best not talked 'bout. I don't run and tell all I sees and hears."

"Jis' confide in my buzzom," said Dolf, tenderly.

"Men is so duberous, 'specially dem as brags 'bout der mean white blood, which comes out coppery any how," said Clorinda.

"Yer knows I'se de most faithful and constance ob my sect," cried Dolf. "Yer may speak freely to me."

"I 'spose yer'd say de same to Vic."

"Neber, Miss Clorindy! What, dat silly, giggling girl—don't tink it!"

His persuasions met with their reward at last; he pleaded again:

"Jis' tell me what yer means 'bout de tree bein' haunted?"

She yielded to his flattery and her feminine desire to tell all that she had seen or imagined about the old cedar.

"Mebby 'twas two months 'fore you came back," she said, in the tone of a person trying to be exact in her recollection of events.

"What was?" cried Dolf, impatiently, "de hauntin'?"

"Ef I'm gwine to tell you my story I'll do it in my own way," said Clorinda, majestically.

"In course, in course," returned Dolf. "I begs pardon for de 'ruption. Jis' go on, sweetest Miss Clo'."

"I tells yer dar's been somethin' agoing on in dis house," pursued Clorinda. "Dat ar bracelet losing was all of a piece wid what went afore. Missus was awful mad at me for saying so, but I don't care. She's queer—stuck up like. There's Miss Elsie, sweet allers as a young kitten!"

"Yes, yes," Dolf said, ready to agree with anything in order to get at the heart of Clorinda's mystery.

"Afore ever dat ring was lost I seed a man in de house in de dead ob de night—a man and a woman!"

"Good gracious!" cried Dolf.

"I'd had de toothache, and ben down to de kitchen fire a smokin' pennyryal, and awful sick it made me. I was gwine up de back stairs, when I heard steps in de hall. I looked in and I seed a man and woman plain. I had de candle in my hand. I screeched right out, and shut my eyes, and let de candle fall. When I opened 'em again missus had come out of her room, wid a shawl over her and a lamp in her hand.

"'What yer doin' dar?' says she.

"I up and telled her 'bout de man and woman, and she larfed in my face.

"'Whar be dey?' says she. 'Dar's nobody here but us.'

"'Twarn't no use to say nothin', she flew off into one o' her tantrums, and scolded me like all possessed. I don't like her, anyhow, and dat's all 'bout it!"

"But is dat all?" questioned Dolf, in a disappointed tone.

"No, it ain't all; jis' wait and don't go off de handle afore you knows which end you've got hold on."

"But de tree, Clorindy," said Dolf; "tell me 'bout de tree."

"I'se comin' to dat," replied Clo, growing eager again. "I'd ben down to see Dinah Jameson, at de cross roads; it was real late; we'd had a prayer meetin' and I kinder forgot myself in de refreshin' season——"

"Yes," said Dolf, fearing she would go off in a long digression and lose sight of the all-important topic, "dey is refreshin'; as preserves is to de taste so is meetin's to de spirit—soothin', yer know."

"Jis' so," said Clorinda.

"Wal, yer was comin' home," suggested Dolf.

"Yes; two or tree on 'em came with me to de gate and dar dey left me. I heeled it up de avenue jis' as hard as I could, but when I got near de house I thort, suppose missus should see me, she's a pokin up at all hours, she'd scold me like smoke. I jis' cut out ob de road to take de path trough de thicket, and came in sight ob de ole cypress tree."

Clorinda broke off abruptly to recover her breath and to allow her narrative to have its full effect upon her listener.

"Go on; oh, do go on!" cried Dolf.

Could the pair have seen the face leaning over the balcony, straining to catch every word, they might almost have thought that one of the ghosts they so dreaded had started up before them.

"I came in sight ob de cypress tree," recommenced Clo, working up her story to a climax with great art.

"Yes, yes," said Dolf again. "In sight ob de tree——"

"I seed somethin' all in white a couchin' down dar, a throwin' up its arms and moaning like. I jis' give one yell and danced away. When I got to de house, what do you tink? dar was missus. Whar she come from I don't know, and she give me goose again for screaming; but la! she was white as a dead woman all de while."

"What could it all a ben?"

"I don't know more'n you. The next morning she sent for me, and she telled me she'd hev to send me away ef I didn't quit dat habit of bein' up so late and skeerin' de gals wid stories 'bout ghosts; so I jis' held my tongue."

"And had you ebber seed anytink more?"

"Laws, I wouldn't go near dat tree after dark for all de money on Long Island! I tells you dar's sometin' queer somewhar."

"So dar is," assented Dolf, in a perplexed manner, "dar is, sure."

"Don't yer say nothin', 'cause I'd get my walkin' papers ef yer did. But ef you're so mighty wise, jis' tell me what yer makes ob all dis mysteriousness?"

"Clorindy," said Dolf, in a solemn voice, "ghostesses is a subject 'taint proper to talk on, and the queernesses ob our marsters and misseses is not tropics for us."

"A body must wonder, I s'pose, black or white," said Clo, angrily.

"But dat's all you've seen?"

"Dat's all, and it's 'nuff and more too."

Grantley Mellen stepped back into the library and closed the window. He had need to be alone. Every day, every hour, the mystery which had intruded into his home deepened and took more appalling shapes.