Off to the west was a daffodil glow hanging over the valley of lost sunsets , and Grandfather King 's huge willow rose up against it like a rounded mountain of foliage . In the east , above the maple woods , was a silvery sheen that hinted the moonrise . But the orchard was a place of shadows and mysterious sounds . Midway up the open space in its heart we met Peter ; and if ever a boy was given over to sheer terror that boy was Peter . His face was as white as a sunburned face could be , and his eyes were brimmed with panic . `` Peter , what is the matter ? '' cried Cecily . `` There 's -- SOMETHING -- in the house , RINGING A BELL , '' said Peter , in a shaking voice . Not the Story Girl herself could have invested that `` something '' with more of creepy horror . We all drew close together . I felt a crinkly feeling along my back which I had never known before . If Peter had not been so manifestly frightened we might have thought he was trying to `` pass a joke '' on us . But such abject terror as his could not be counterfeited . `` Nonsense ! '' said Felicity , but her voice shook . `` There is n't a bell in the house to ring . You must have imagined it , Peter . Or else Uncle Roger is trying to fool us . '' `` Your Uncle Roger went to Markdale right after milking , '' said Peter . `` He locked up the house and gave me the key .
There was n't a soul XXXXX it then , that I 'm sure of .
If along as before in on that to up with