It 's SOMETHING that WALKS . '' `` I know a story about a ghost , '' said the Story Girl , the ruling passion strong even in extremity . `` It is about a ghost with eyeholes but no eyes -- '' `` Do n't , '' cried Cecily hysterically . `` Do n't you go on ! Do n't you say another word ! I ca n't bear it ! Do n't you ! '' The Story Girl did n't . But she had said enough . There was something in the quality of a ghost with eyeholes but no eyes that froze our young blood . There never were in all the world six more badly scared children than those who huddled in the old King orchard that August night . All at once -- something -- leaped from the bough of a tree and alighted before us . We split the air with a simultaneous shriek . We would have run , one and all , if there had been anywhere to run to . But there was n't -- all around us were only those shadowy arcades . Then we saw with shame that it was only our Paddy . `` Pat , Pat , '' I said , picking him up , feeling a certain comfort in his soft , solid body . `` Stay with us , old fellow . '' But Pat would none of us . He struggled out of my clasp and disappeared over the long grasses with soundless leaps .
He was no longer our tame , domestic , well acquainted XXXXX .
Cecily King Paddy Pat arcades bough children clasp eyeholes night