My! what a clatter!" "Here they are," said Mrs.White, but her husband was gone.

Two or three hundred men and boys pass the place at a rapid walk straight down the broad, new street, toward the hated house of ghosts.

The din was terrific.

She saw little White at the head of the rabble brandishing his arms and trying in vain to make himself heard; but they only shook their heads laughing and hooting the louder, and so passed, bearing him on before them.
Swiftly they pass out from among the houses, away from the dim oil lamps of the street, out into the broad starlit commons, and enter the willowy jungles of the haunted ground.

Some hearts fail and their owners lag behind and turn back, suddenly remembering how near morning it is.