The Story of the Big Front Door

Excerpt

CHAPTER I.

THE OUTLAWS.

"Come listen to me, ye gallants so free,
All ye who love mirth for to hear;
And I will tell you of a bold outlaw
Who lived in Nottinghamshire."
Old Ballad.

Ikey Ford was the first to make the discovery, and he lost no time in carrying the news to the others.

Great was their consternation!

"Moving into the Brown house? Nonsense, Ikey, you are making it up!" Carl exclaimed.

"What shall we do about the banquet for King Richard?" cried Bess, sitting down on the doorstep despairingly.

"And my racket is over there, and your grandma's fur rug, Ikey Ford!" wailed Louise, shaking her finger at the bringer of evil tidings. He assented meekly, adding, "and Sallie's clothes-pins."

A stranger might have been puzzled to guess what sort of calamity had befallen the little group in the doorway of the pleasant, hospitable-looking house among the maple trees, that warm August morning. Something serious certainly, for Louise's dimples had disappeared, Bess was almost tearful, and the boys, though they affected to take it more lightly, wore plainly depressed.

"Let's go over to Ikey's and look through the fence," suggested Carl, and, as there seemed nothing else to do, the others agreed.

They filed solemnly down the walk and across the street,—Bess with a roll of green cambric under her arm,—and nobody uttered a word till a secluded spot behind Mrs. Ford's syringa bushes was reached, where, through an opening in the division fence, they could look out unobserved upon the adjoining house.

"The side windows are open!" Louise announced in a tragic whisper.

"Didn't I tell you so?" replied Ikey with mournful triumph.

It was a small house with a pointed roof, and it stood in the midst of an old-fashioned garden, where for years and years lilacs and snowballs, peonies and roses, pinks and sweet-william, and dozens of other flowers, had bloomed happily in their season, without any trouble to anybody. In the background sunflowers and hollyhocks grew, and on either side of the front gate two stout little cedars stood like sentinels on guard. The street upon which this gate opened was wide and shady, and the bustle and din of the city had not yet invaded its quiet.

Though in reality a red house grown somewhat rusty, it was called the "Brown house," because as far back as any one in the neighborhood could remember it had been occupied by an old lady of that name. For years before she died she was bed-ridden, and to the children there was something mysterious about this person who was never seen, but on whose account they were cautioned not to be noisy at their play. After her death the house was left closed and unoccupied, but hardly more silent than before. An air of mystery still hung about the place; the children when they passed peeped in at the flowers alone in their glory, and spoke softly as though even yet their owner might be disturbed.

This was in the early spring; as the summer wore on this garden grew more and more irresistible. Other playgrounds lost their charm to the eyes that looked in at the long waving grass and the pleasant shady places under the apple trees....