When the children reached home, they all went into the den and sat down. “You know,” Jessie said, “I wonder whether Mr. Farley is deliberately trying to scare us. He talks about the ghost so much.”
“Why would he want to scare us?” Violet asked.
“I have no idea,” Jessie replied. “I just wonder. It seems strange to me.”
“He isn’t very nice, if he’s trying to scare children,” Benny said.
“I can’t think of any reason why he’d do that,” Henry said.
Jessie sighed. “I guess you’re right. But that would mean he really believes there is a ghost.”
“Maybe there is,” Benny said.
“No,” Henry said, “that’s impossible.”
But Benny was not convinced.
The Aldens went back to the house the next morning determined not to think about ghosts.
Henry started painting the porch railings. Violet and Benny got scissors and paper to line the drawers in the kitchen.
Jessie went upstairs to dust away the cobwebs in the bedrooms. Out one of the windows Jessie caught a glimpse of a man standing across the street, staring up at the Roth house. She stepped away from the window so he couldn’t see her, and then peeked out again. The man was still staring at the house.
Jessie ran down the stairs and went outside to Henry. “Look at that man across the street,” she said to her brother.
Henry stopped painting and gazed at the man. Even though now the two children were looking at him, the man never moved.
“Let’s go talk to him,” Jessie said.
“What can we say?” Henry asked.
Jessie grabbed Henry’s hand. “Come on,” she said.
They walked across the street and Jessie said to the man, “Hi. Can we help you? You’ve been standing here quite a while.”
The man frowned. “What’s happening to this house?” he asked gruffly.
Henry smiled. “Do you know the Roth house well?”
“I’m Thomas Yeats,” the man said. “I’m an artist. I’ve been working on a large picture of the Roth house. It’s going to be my finest painting. I’ve been working on it for months, but it’s not finished yet. So no one can change the look of the house.”
Henry said, “Our cousins are moving in here in a few weeks. They may change the house quite a bit.”
Tom Yeats’s voice was cold. “They can’t. They can’t make all my hard work useless. I’ll put a stop to that.” His eyes were blazing with fury. He turned and swiftly walked away.
“Wow!” Jessie said. “He was angry.”
Jessie and Henry went into the house and told Violet and Benny what had happened. “That Mr. Yeats was really mad,” Henry said.
“If the house starts to look different, can’t the man just paint another picture?” Benny asked.
Violet shook her head. “Artists aren’t like that,” she answered Benny. “If Mr. Yeats has worked hard on that painting for a long time, he wants to finish it, not start something new.”
“He sure was upset,” Jessie said, remembering the sound of Mr. Yeats’s voice.
Benny got bored with Mr. Yeats. “I have a good idea,” he said. “Let’s eat lunch out on the porch. I’ll get the food Mrs. McGregor fixed for us this morning.”
“Good idea!” Henry said. “I’ll help you.”
The Aldens all went into the kitchen, got the picnic basket Mrs. McGregor had packed, and took it out onto the porch. Henry spread newspapers on the floor, and the children sat down. From the picnic basket they took paper plates and cups, turkey sandwiches, purple plums, cookies, and a thermos of lemonade. They began to eat.
Suddenly they heard a voice coming from the house. Someone was singing! It was a girl, singing sweetly. The Aldens all stopped eating and listened. The voice was louder now, coming from upstairs. Henry jumped up and went to the door, and the others followed him.
“Who is it?” Benny asked, his voice quivering.
“Mr. Farley talked about Celia Roth singing,” Violet said, moving closer to Jessie. Her eyes were wide.
“That can’t be!” Jessie said.
“But who is singing?” Henry asked.
As suddenly as it had started, the singing stopped. Benny breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m going to see what’s going on,” Henry said, heading toward the stairs.
“I’ll go, too,” Jessie said.
“I’m not staying here alone,” Benny whispered.
“Me either,” Violet added.
So all four Aldens went upstairs and tiptoed from room to room.
“There’s nothing here,” Jessie said.
“It must have been a radio,” Henry said.
“But there isn’t a radio in the house,” Violet pointed out.
“And who turned it on if there was one?” Benny asked.
The Aldens were silent. There didn’t seem to be any answers to the questions.
“Let’s go home,” Benny said firmly.
Jessie looked at Benny and Violet’s worried faces and said, “We did a lot this morning. I think we should leave the house until tomorrow.”
“Good!” Benny said.
The Aldens walked back downstairs and onto the porch. They finished eating their lunch, though no one was very hungry. Then they began to clean up the porch. They stopped their work when Mrs. Carter came up the walk.
“I just thought I’d see if I could help you,” she said, smiling.
“We’re just leaving,” Jessie replied. “But thank you.”
Mrs. Carter stared at the house with a funny expression on her face. “Mr. Carter and I would have bought this place and the property, but we couldn’t afford it. I guess your cousins could.” She looked longingly at the house.
“What does ‘afford’ mean?” Benny asked.
“It means having enough money to buy something,” Mrs. Carter answered. “I envy your cousins.”
Violet felt sorry for Mrs. Carter and a little unhappy. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter. But you’ll like Joe and Alice.”
Mrs. Carter smiled now. “Don’t let me keep you. You seemed to be packing up. Knock on my door if I can help you anytime.” She left.
The Aldens watched her walk away. Then Benny said, “Maybe she was the lady singing.”
Jessie smiled. “Benny, she wasn’t in the house. It couldn’t have been Mrs. Carter.”
Benny looked disappointed.
Henry said reassuringly, “It was probably a radio turned on somewhere. There are houses all around us. It just sounded as if it was coming from upstairs.”
That night after everyone was in bed, Henry knocked on Jessie’s door. She called out, “Come in.”
Henry sat down on Jessie’s bed. She looked up from her book.
“Jessie, things are sure funny at the Roth house,” Henry said.
“You don’t believe there’s a ghost, do you?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Henry said. “But something is going on. Mr. Farley keeps talking about ghosts. Mr. Carter doesn’t want neighbors. Mr. Yeats is angry. Shades fall off windows. A girl is singing in the house, when there is no girl there.”
Jessie thought for a minute. “None of what you said means anything is wrong. I’m sure all those things can be explained.”
“But how?” Henry asked.
“I don’t know,” Jessie said. “But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Henry nodded. “I guess you’re right.” He smiled. “ ’Night, Jessie.”
After Henry left, Jessie sat very still and thought, Henry is right. Something is funny at the Roth house.
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