Peter scoffed at the idea . `` Peg Bowen was n't in the house before your Uncle Roger locked it up , and how could she get in afterwards ? '' he said . `` No , it is n't Peg Bowen . 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 XXXXX his soft , solid body .
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