Read Online The Moffats by Eleanor Estes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eleanor Estes
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
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right. But you must be quiet."
"Haw-haw," jeered Peter Frost.
But he stopped short, for out of the night came a long-drawn howl, a howl of reproach.
Sylvie, Joe, Jane, and Rufus had the same thought. Catherine-the-cat! They had forgotten her up there with the ghost. But Peter Frost! Why, he knew nothing of that, of course, and although he was inclined to toss the matter lightly aside, still he blanched visibly when again from some mysterious dark recess of the house came the same wild howl.
The four Moffats knew when to be silent and they were silent now. So was Peter Frost. So was the whole house. It was so silent it began to speak with a thousand voices. When Mama's rocking chair creaked, Peter Frost looked at it as though he expected to see the ghost sitting right in it. Somewhere a shutter came unfastened and banged against the house with persistent regularity. The clock in the sitting room ticked slowly, painfully, as though it had a lump in its throat; then stopped altogether. Even the Moffats began to feel scared, particularly Rufus. He began to think this whole business on a par with G-R-I-N-D your bones in "Jack and the Beanstalk."
Peter Frost swallowed his breath with a great gulp and said in a voice a trifle less jeering, "Well, what're we waitin' for? I want to see yer old ghost."
"Very well, then," said the four Moffats in solemn voices. "Follow us."
Again they left the warm safety of the kitchen, mounted the inky black stairs to the second floor, each one holding to the belt of the one in front. When they reached the stepladder, they paused a moment to count heads.
"Aw, you don't think I'm gonna skin out without seeing your silly old ghost, do yer?" asked Peter Frost. However, blustering though his words were, there could be no doubt that his hand, the one that held on to Joe's belt, was shaking and shaking.
"Now we go up the stepladder," said Joe in a hoarse whisper. "I'll push open the hatch."
Cautiously the five mounted the stepladder. It seemed to lead to a never-ending pit of darkness.
"Why don't you light your flash?" asked Peter Frost, doing his best to sound carefree and easy.
"And scare away the ghost, I suppose," snorted Joe. "You know, a ghost isn't comin' out where there's a light and all this many people. That is, unless there's a certain one around it happens to be interested in."
Another howl interrupted Joe's words. This sounded so close to them now that the four Moffats were afraid Peter Frost would recognize the voice of Catherine-the-cat. But he didn't. He began to shake and shake more violently than ever, making the stepladder they were standing on shiver and creak.
Joe pushed the trapdoor up with his shoulders. It fell open with a groan just as it had done before. They all climbed in and stood on the attic floor. Except for a pale glow from the light below, the attic was in the thickest blackness. For a moment they stood there in silence. Then suddenly Joe gave a swift flash into the corner of the attic. It fell for a second on the stuffed wildcat.
Peter Frost started but said not a word.
Then swiftly Joe flashed the light in the other corner. The stuffed owl stared at them broodingly.
But Peter Frost said nothing.
And then Joe flashed his light on Madame-the-ghost, herself. There she was, lurking in the corner, her orange head gaping horribly. All the children gasped, but still Peter Frost said nothing. All of a sudden, without any warning whatsoever, Madame-the-ghost started careening madly toward them. And dragging heavy chains behind her too, from the sound.
Jane called out in a shrill voice:
"Peter Frost! Peter Frost!
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!"
Joe flashed his light on and off rapidly. Madame-the-ghost dashed wildly round and round the attic. The same howl rent the air! The shutters banged. Then Peter Frost let out a roar of terror. That THING was after HIM. He tore around the attic room, roaring like a bull. And the ghost, dragging its horrible chains, tore
"Haw-haw," jeered Peter Frost.
But he stopped short, for out of the night came a long-drawn howl, a howl of reproach.
Sylvie, Joe, Jane, and Rufus had the same thought. Catherine-the-cat! They had forgotten her up there with the ghost. But Peter Frost! Why, he knew nothing of that, of course, and although he was inclined to toss the matter lightly aside, still he blanched visibly when again from some mysterious dark recess of the house came the same wild howl.
The four Moffats knew when to be silent and they were silent now. So was Peter Frost. So was the whole house. It was so silent it began to speak with a thousand voices. When Mama's rocking chair creaked, Peter Frost looked at it as though he expected to see the ghost sitting right in it. Somewhere a shutter came unfastened and banged against the house with persistent regularity. The clock in the sitting room ticked slowly, painfully, as though it had a lump in its throat; then stopped altogether. Even the Moffats began to feel scared, particularly Rufus. He began to think this whole business on a par with G-R-I-N-D your bones in "Jack and the Beanstalk."
Peter Frost swallowed his breath with a great gulp and said in a voice a trifle less jeering, "Well, what're we waitin' for? I want to see yer old ghost."
"Very well, then," said the four Moffats in solemn voices. "Follow us."
Again they left the warm safety of the kitchen, mounted the inky black stairs to the second floor, each one holding to the belt of the one in front. When they reached the stepladder, they paused a moment to count heads.
"Aw, you don't think I'm gonna skin out without seeing your silly old ghost, do yer?" asked Peter Frost. However, blustering though his words were, there could be no doubt that his hand, the one that held on to Joe's belt, was shaking and shaking.
"Now we go up the stepladder," said Joe in a hoarse whisper. "I'll push open the hatch."
Cautiously the five mounted the stepladder. It seemed to lead to a never-ending pit of darkness.
"Why don't you light your flash?" asked Peter Frost, doing his best to sound carefree and easy.
"And scare away the ghost, I suppose," snorted Joe. "You know, a ghost isn't comin' out where there's a light and all this many people. That is, unless there's a certain one around it happens to be interested in."
Another howl interrupted Joe's words. This sounded so close to them now that the four Moffats were afraid Peter Frost would recognize the voice of Catherine-the-cat. But he didn't. He began to shake and shake more violently than ever, making the stepladder they were standing on shiver and creak.
Joe pushed the trapdoor up with his shoulders. It fell open with a groan just as it had done before. They all climbed in and stood on the attic floor. Except for a pale glow from the light below, the attic was in the thickest blackness. For a moment they stood there in silence. Then suddenly Joe gave a swift flash into the corner of the attic. It fell for a second on the stuffed wildcat.
Peter Frost started but said not a word.
Then swiftly Joe flashed the light in the other corner. The stuffed owl stared at them broodingly.
But Peter Frost said nothing.
And then Joe flashed his light on Madame-the-ghost, herself. There she was, lurking in the corner, her orange head gaping horribly. All the children gasped, but still Peter Frost said nothing. All of a sudden, without any warning whatsoever, Madame-the-ghost started careening madly toward them. And dragging heavy chains behind her too, from the sound.
Jane called out in a shrill voice:
"Peter Frost! Peter Frost!
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!"
Joe flashed his light on and off rapidly. Madame-the-ghost dashed wildly round and round the attic. The same howl rent the air! The shutters banged. Then Peter Frost let out a roar of terror. That THING was after HIM. He tore around the attic room, roaring like a bull. And the ghost, dragging its horrible chains, tore
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