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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Then you'll have time to get into your war paint. My dear," the speaker continued, addressing his wife, "I wish I could have the proper poultry-carver instead of this big knife." "Isn't it laid?" inquired Mrs. Ormond. "Jane, you should have put the smaller carving-knife." "Please, 'm," answered the maid. "I meant to do so, but I can't find it." "Can't find it! Doesn't Sarah know where it is?"
Could it have been this poultry-carver that the mysterious intruder was working at when she had awoke and seen the faint light in the tool-house? She longed to hazard the suggestion, but Guy and Ida had already made so much fun of her story that she feared to mention the subject again lest it should occasion a fresh teasing. The children found Mr. and Mrs.
The only tool they had with which to work was the poultry-carver, and this bent up like a strip of paper. "Oh, bother!" cried Elsie, and stamped her foot. With that the whole room seemed to rock and totter, and Ida's voice was heard complaining in sleepy tones, "I wish you wouldn't kick me and shout 'bother. Do lie still!" At length Thursday evening arrived.
Once she dropped a soup tureen merely because I looked at her rather attentively; she was continually missing my wine-glass and pouring the claret on to the table-cloth; and when I tested the edge of a poultry-carver, which had become somewhat blunt, she hurried from the room and I saw her watching me through the crack of the door.
She had quite made up her mind that connected with that grindstone was a mystery in which the poultry-carver was somehow concerned.
"It's that poultry-carver right enough," repeated Guy "the one the mater said was lost." His sister and Brian all crowded round to have a nearer view of the object in question. "So it is!" cried Elsie. "How on earth could it have got into the pond?" "I suppose some one threw it in," answered her brother. "It couldn't have walked or flown there of its own accord."
"Can't you see?" was the answer. "Why, it's the little knob from the handle of that poultry-carver!" "Then that proves Brian and I were right!" cried Elsie excitedly. "It was the carver that was being ground when I heard the stone turning that night. Mother said the knob was loose, and it must have fallen off into the water." "Get away!" answered Guy obstinately.
"Oh, never mind," said the master of the house; "I'll make this knife do now; you'll find the other somewhere." "But there's no reason why it should have been lost," replied Mrs. Ormond. "I can't imagine where it's gone to." "I say," cried Guy, "perhaps it was the poultry-carver that Elsie's ghost was grinding last night! Ha! ha! That's where it went!"
What this secret was she could not imagine; but the belief grew in her mind that if she had been able to summon up sufficient courage to have crossed the yard that night, and to have peeped round the door of the tool-house, she might now be able to explain how and why the poultry-carver had found its way to the bottom of the pond.
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