The Mysterious Howling Read Online Free Page B

hunt? Or was there something elseamiss? The noise seemed to be coming from the direction of the barn.
    â€œAhwooooooooooooooooooo!”
    â€œWoof! Woof!”
    â€œAhwooooooooooooooooooo!”
    â€œThere is something beyond hunger in these cries,” Penelope thought. She recalled all the times she had tagged along after Dr. Westminster, the Swanburne veterinarian. Once she saw him cure a dog of excessive howling by pulling a single badly rotted tooth. The relief that flooded the poor creature’s face when the offending bicuspid was removed had impressed Penelope greatly at the time, and she resolved then and there to never let an animal suffer when comfort could be given.
    â€œAhwooooooooooooooooooo! Ahwoooooooooooooo!”
    Surely some medical difficulty was at work here as well? For this was no ordinary howling, but an anguished cry from the very soul of one—or more—otherwise mute beings!
    â€œAhwoooooooooooooo!”
    â€œAhwoooooooooooooo!”
    â€œAhwoooooooooooooo!”
    â€œSince the children are not yet ready to make my acquaintance,” she thought, seizing her cloak, “I haveno duties to speak of and, therefore, none I can be accused of shirking.”
    Her decision was made. She left her room and headed downstairs. She would visit the barn at once, to see what aid she might render to the miserable creature—or creatures—within.
    â€œM ISS L UMLEY ! M ISS L UMLEY ! Please—wait—you musn’t—”
    Mrs. Clarke chased Penelope across the grounds, but Penelope had the advantage of youth, not to mention two minutes’ head start. The older lady was clearly unused to exercise; by the time she caught up with Penelope, her face looked like the scarlet top of a mercury thermometer just prior to bursting.
    â€œMiss Lumley, it is not proper for you to wander the grounds unescorted—”
    â€œWith all respect, Mrs. Clarke, are you deaf?” All Miss Mortimer’s advice to Penelope about restraining her natural boldness was forgotten; in Penelope’s view, this was a true emergency. “There is a wounded animal in the barn, or perhaps more than one! I am going to see what the trouble is.”
    â€œYou should wait,” Mrs. Clarke gasped, “for Lord Fredrick to return home—”
    â€œBy then it may be too late.” Penelope quickened her pace even more. “But tell me, how many beasts are in there? And how long have they been carrying on so?”
    â€œMiss Lumley, you don’t understand!” The two ladies had reached the barn, and Mrs. Clarke flung herself in front of Penelope, blocking the doors. “It’s the children,” she said, shaking with upset. “The children are”— huff, puff —“inside”— puff! —“the barn!”
    â€œThe children!” Penelope stopped short. “With those agitated dogs? Surely that is unwise!”
    Mrs. Clarke merely stammered, “Eh!—eh!—eh!” but offered no explanation.
    Then Penelope had a terrifying thought. “Perhaps the children grew worried for the safety of their beloved ponies and rushed inside to protect them!” she cried. “Surely that is what I would have done, had I been in their place!”
    â€œPonies?” Mrs. Clarke looked bewildered. “What ponies? We don’t have any ponies—”
    â€œAhwoooooooooooooo!”
    â€œAhwoooooooooooooo!”
    â€œAhwoooooooooooooo!”
    Without further discussion, Penelope shoved the distraught housekeeper aside, leaned her full weightagainst the great wooden doors, and pushed them open.
    As the sunlight flooded the dark interior, the howling abruptly stopped. Penelope looked around. The barn smelled strongly of leather and hay, but the stalls—at least, those she could see—were empty. The sudden silence was broken only by the panting of Mrs. Clarke, who stood silhouetted in the doorway, clutching her