Pendleton High School - Wakeipa Yearbook (Pendleton, OR)

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'R Nobody around this here country will buy it, the farmer drawled out. f'That house is haunted. Jim Sydman heard that thar piano goin' jest last night and saw lights moving around upstairs. 'Pears like Alice Torrey ain't goin' to have it sold. I wouldn't stay in that house one night for a dozen jest like it. Maybe some rich gent from the city 'll buy it. I ain't Worryin' much myselff' 'tWl1en does this said ghost appear? Does it come every evening? I ain't stayin' around to see. My crops need me worse than that thar ghost. Failing to get much information from the farmer concerning the matter, Bob drove on. Somehow it interested him and he determined to solve the mystery. He had always had a curiosity to See inside the house so he decided to make a call on the musical ghost. Bob hungered for a little adventure and excitement, and decided to go that very evening. According to his plans, four o'clock found him in his car before the iron gates of Torrey House. Finding the gates locked, he proceeded to climb the wall. Once on the inside he hurried up the driveway to the porch. The trees cast long dark shadows on the lawn and made things look unusually lone- some and gloomy. ,The first feeling of excitement was experienced as he climbed the steps and walked across the porch to the door. He was thoroughly ready for anything and even a feeling of mischief surged over him. Lifting the brass knocker, he let it fall with a clanging mournful sound, which echoed through and through the house and so startled Bob for the instant that he was halfway back to the iron gates before he could gain control of himself. Laughing at his panic he again approached the door and turned the knob. To his surprise the door was unlocked and he opened it and stepped inside. The musty damp atmosphere stifled him and he paused a moment before going further. He found himself in what he judged to be a drawing room. The first object which attracted his attention was the piano, which was closed and covered. He smiled again at the thought of the ghost which played that magnificent instrument. He looked around at the fine paintings on the walls. Men and women of generations before looked down upon him, some smiling, some stern and some half mockingly and Bob found himself looking over his shoulder to see if someone wasn't really watching him. His footsteps were noiseless on the soft rugs as he walked about examin- ing one relic after another. On the table he picked up a small Bible, which had the name of Alice Torrey in it. After looking again and again at the quaint old furniture, the pictures, the hooks and various other curiosities, he went to the piano. Uncovering it and opening it, he struck a chord. The result was entirely what he had not expected. lt sounded like a human voice. The sound rose, floated up to l85l

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t l hoped to finish the picture today. As he sat wondering what to do, he was startled by a light step from behind. Turning he saw Jenny Lynn. Oh, I beg your pardon, she said in a surprised tone. HAm l intruding? She turned to go but he called her back. Don't go, Jenny, I'm finishing a picture of Torrey House but it's not what I expected it to be. Look at it and sec if you can tell what's the matter. She stepped forward and looked at the picture. For a moment she stood almost motionless, except for a slight twitching around her mouth. Then her manner changed and her face was wreathed in smiles. 'tOh, it's wonderful! It's magnificent! How did you do it? It's great! Oh! She broke off suddenly and was silent. Then picking up a brush from the ground and quickly mixing a few colors, she put a touch here and one there until the desired effect was produced. Bob was amazed. He did not understand how she did it. In all his experience with artists he had never seen such talent displayed. Wheii she had finished she turned to him and her entire expression had changed to sorrow and loneliness. , HThere, it's done, she said, with something like a sob in her voice. Don't let me see it again. I can't stand it. Wliy does it have to be so? I d-on't understand at all, Jenny, and Bob looked so helpless and awkward standing there, that Jenny smiled through her tears. Oh, you can never understand. I can't tell you. Please forgive me for my stupidity. That picture only brought some sad but fond memories to my mind. It's a truly wonderful picture, Bob, and you'll make a fortune out of it. My, how time does fly! she said, suddenly changing the subject and looking at her small watch. Granny will be coming after me. I must go now. Good luck to you. - I'll see you later, Jenny. You're an inspiration in yourself. Tell Granny hello. He watched her go quickly down to the road where she turned and waved, before disappearing from sight behind the trees. Bob realized for the first time that he felt more than a brotherly love for this girl. He wanted to see more of her and cheer her lonely life as she had cheered his. He wondered what particular instances this picture of Torrey House could bring to her mind and make her look as she had looked today. He finished the picture before noon and decided to return to the village for lunch instead of having lunch there. Packing his easel and outfit in his roadster which stood only a short distance away, he started for the village. On the way he stopped to talk to a farmer, who was putting up a notice of the coming sale of Torrey House. Who do you suppose will buy the place? Bob asked, as he stopped his car. I84l

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'Q' the ceiling, past the ceiling into the rooms above and was answered by other voices from the adjoining rooms. Bob found the sweat standing out on his brow as he quickly left the room. Going into the hall he climbed the wide carpeted stairway and began to explore the rooms above. Everywhere his steps were noiseless and he had almost forgotten about the piano when he distinctly heard a door close downstairs. He started and dropped the vase, which he was examining. ,lt fell to the floor with a crash. His hands shook violently and for the first time he would have liked to have been out of this mysterious place. He listened, but hearing no other sound, he thought himself only excited and continued his explorations. Everywhere he found things just as they had been left, even the beds covered with elaborately em'broidered spreads, quite yellow and faded with age, Hlld wiiardrobes filled with ruffled gowns of silk and satin. After spending almost an hour looking at the luxuries of a quarter of a century before, Bob descended the stairs, avoided the gloomy dreary draw- ing room and went into what he considered a library or study. Here he found volumes and volumes of the choicest of literature and soon lost him- self entirely over a selection from a favorite author, when the quaint melodies of an old song reached him from the drawing room. His heart seemed to stop beating and a lump in his throat choked him. He felt his hair rise from his head and a sickening horrible feeling came over him. The music came in volumes, first soft and low, then loud, and the very house seemed to tremble and answer to those strains which issued from that dreary lonesome room and floated into the library, Hlld beat against his ears with terrific force. He stood as if turned to stone, then he suddenly started as if someone had struck him, for on the opposite wall Jenny Lynn smiled down upon him. Her dress was quaint and old-fashioned and in her hand she held a small Bible. Bob rubbed his eyes to see if he was dreaming, when the music in the drawing room trailed off into a dreamy waltz and ceased. He listened intently. Silence reigned over the entire house. Then he heard a sob. He seemed to awake from a dream. Was that 11ot an echo of the sob he had heard that afternoon? Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing on the threshold of the drawing room. But what did he see there? Not a ghost, but a real live human being, a young girl sobbing as if her heart would break. 'tJenny Lynn,'i he gasped, Hfor heaven 's sake. what are you doing here? She was startled and jumping up, leaned back upon the keys of the piano which groaned in a sorrowful tone. She swayed and would have lSGl