Pendleton High School - Wakeipa Yearbook (Pendleton, OR)

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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

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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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fallen but Bob reached forward and caught her. She was very pale and he led her to the sofa, where after a brief moment she gained control of herself. Tell me, Jenny, what does this mean? Why are you here? he asked her again. HOI1, you wouldn't understand. It 's foolish. but I cannot help it. You probably know that this house is to be sold. Oh, l cannot think of it, dear old Torrey House, and she seemed almost on the verge of tears again. UI don't believe I understand, Jenny. Wliy do you hate to see it sold? I am Jenny Lynn Torrey,'7 she said proudly. HI am the daughter of Randolph and Alice Lynn Torrey. I was only a mere child when my parents died, and I was taken away by a dear aunt. Aunt Isabel certainly did all she could for mef' Jennie's eyes filled with tears. HI have always been called Jennie Lynn because I looked so much like my mother, whose picture hangs in the library. Wliile Aunt Isabel lived, the taxes were paid on Torrey House for we planned to return some day. When she died l found that it took all her small estate to pay debts, so I was left penniless and alone in the world again a11d I came back here to be near Torrey House. It seems that I am nearer heaven and Father and Mother and Aunt Isabel when l'm here than anywhere. I often come here of evenings and play the songs Father loved so well and recall the happy days of my childhood. 77 f'You poor, poor girl, Bob said as he put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. HThen Torrey House is haunted and I've caught the ghost, a real live one and l'm going to keep her forever and We'll live in Torrey House and Granny Ollirien ean come and live with us and we'll be very happy. Every evening the little ghost will play for the new owner of Torrey House. Tomorrow I'll make out the final papers for the place and tomorrow evening the gates of Torrey House will be open again. Does that suit you?l' V HOh, it can't be true, it eanlt be true, she said as she put her arms around his neck. MARY DO UGLASS CHISHOLM. Zi Toast tu the Seniors Hail to the Seniors! Hail to the Seniors! Hail to the Senior Ulass ly We are what we claim to be, Have become what we aimed to beg Through earnest endeavor and honesty, For our motto is HThrough the Harbor into the Sea. l87l