But a week was not allowed to elapse before the two girls saw an opportunity of crossing the bridge again to make a second visit to the haunted house. Miss Rindy one evening declared her intention of spending the next day in Portland. She had now almost recovered from her accident, and with the aid of her stick could get about perfectly with scarce a sign of a limp.

“Beulah will look after you,” she told the two girls. “She knows what to do, and if anything goes wrong, you, Ellen, can set it right. It won’t hurt you to take a little responsibility once in a while.”

“It seems to me that I have proved that I can,” retorted Ellen.

“Well, perhaps you have, in a measure, but that was at home; it is different here. One should be prepared to meet any emergency, no matter where.”

Ellen shrugged her shoulders. Why couldn’t Cousin Rindy give her the credit for having rather good judgment? However, she said nothing, but speeded her on her way, and then returned to Mabel, who had not risen for so early a breakfast as was necessary for Miss Rindy.

“What a lazybones I am,” said Mabel as she came down to find Miss Rindy gone and Ellen finished with her breakfast. “Gran always indulged me, so that if I wanted to linger in bed she never said a word. I am afraid I am not sufficiently grateful to Gran, but I don’t know that girls usually possess that virtue. We take what is done for us as a matter of course, expect it as our right. You are the only truly grateful young person I know, Ellen.”

“I? You don’t know me. I feel mighty sassy sometimes, and express my opinions accordingly, though I try never to forget what Cousin Rindy has done for me. If she were a really, truly parent, I might feel different, but as it is I consider that I would be a disgraceful ingrate if I lost sight of my benefits.”

“Lots of girls wouldn’t be so particular. It isn’t the modern fashion to show respect to your elders. I know girls who call down their parents as if they were the children and the girls were the parents. Oh, yes; boys, too, generally think they know it all. They call any one of a past generation a back number, non-progressive, and all that. I don’t quite agree with Gran when she says: ‘Young people think old people are fools; old people know young ones are;’ that always makes me mad, chiefly, I suppose, because it is said at a time when I want my own way.”

“I do suppose we should allow some value to experience,” replied Ellen thoughtfully. “How will you have your eggs, Mabel?”

“Oh, you dear thing, are you attending to my breakfast? You have made fresh coffee and toast, too. Where is Beulah?”

“She is attending to things up-stairs. You know I don’t mind doing such things for you, Mabel.”

“Consider yourself kissed for that speech. The eggs? Oh, yes, suppose you scramble them; you always do them so beautifully that way.”

“A bouquet for me in return for mine,” said Ellen laughing, as she went out to the kitchen. “What are we going to do with ourselves to-day?” she asked as she came back with the eggs.

“Why, let me see. Oh, Ellen, why isn’t this just our chance to go to the haunted house?”

“Of course; you’ve said it, child. By the way, have you heard that the polite young man of the post-office incident is not Robert MacDonald? He and some others are camping on a neighboring island. He just happened to be here that day.”

“Who told you all that?”

“Cap’n Belah; you know he keeps wind of everything that goes on. I met him on my way from the boat this morning after seeing Cousin Rindy off, and he asked me facetiously why I wasn’t keeping my weather eye out for ‘them boys over on Halsey’s Island, likely-lookin’ chaps.’ ‘What boys?’ I asked. ‘Do you know their names?’ Wal, he cal’lated that he couldn’t name ’em all, but the one that came over oftenest for supplies went by name of Tom Clayton. They cruised around consid’rable in a motor-boat, there was something like half a dozen of ’em, and they had h’isted tents, was kind of soldiering, he cal’lated.”

Mabel laughed at Ellen’s imitation. “Well, you have done well in gathering in your sheaves so early in the morning. Anything more?”

“I asked if one was named Robert MacDonald. I couldn’t resist that question, Mabel. But Cap’n Belah ‘disremembered,’ so I didn’t gain anything by ‘satiable curiosity.’ Shall we go this morning or this afternoon?”

“This afternoon, I think, for I must write some letters this morning.”

“Same here, as Clyde says. I must write to Caro or she will feel neglected. I wish the dear child wouldn’t be so jealous of you.”

“Jealousy is a mean trait, on a par with ingratitude. One is caused by an inflated ego, the other by a thoughtless one.”

“Where did you learn so much?”

“Read it in a book.”

“Book spoke the truth. To be jealous one must consider one’s self worthy of first place, of satisfying every side of the other’s nature, and possessing so many excellent traits that nobody else could stand the same chance in another’s affections.”

“Spoken like a very oracle. Wise little noddle, yours is, Ellen. You think real big thoughts.”

“I’ve had plenty of time for such, and have not lived in the frivolous atmosphere that some others have,” returned Ellen saucily.

“Out upon your frivolous atmosphere! Am I not doing all I can to escape from it? I see where I shall become a perfect prig if I allow myself to indulge in such moralizing. Away with priggishness, jealousy, and all such stuff. To-day is ours for romance!”

“Ah, yes, romance!” echoed Ellen.

They made an early start that afternoon, for it may be said that Mabel was just as curious as Ellen. The air blew fresh from the sea, so that they did not need to loiter by the way because of undue heat. They reached the house without adventure. All was as silent, as depressing, as before, but this time the two did not stop to explore, but made straight for the cupboard, which Ellen reached first.

“It’s gone!” she cried. “The card is gone!”

Mabel peered over her friend’s shoulder at the empty shelf, but presently she looked down to spy something lying on the floor. She swooped down upon it and held a scrap of paper high over her head. “Look! Look!” she exclaimed. “It blew down when we opened the cupboard.”

They raced to the nearest window, the better to see what was written. Mabel read aloud:

“Greetings to thee, ghost, or shall we say ghostess? For I much suspect thee to be the latter, and not a disembodied spirit, elusive though thou art. Wilt thou not materialize and appear in the flesh to
“R. M.”

“Isn’t it perfectly lovely?” cried Ellen excitedly. “Do let’s answer it. Of course we must not divulge our identity, but we can answer. O dear! I haven’t a bit of paper, though I do happen to have a pencil.”

“Let’s look around; perhaps we can find something that will do.”

“Good idea.”

Mabel began her search, looking in every room, but for some reason every scrap of paper had been disposed of in some way. “Used to kindle a fire,” Ellen surmised. “I’ll look around out of doors.”

She went out, but rollicking winds had borne away anything like paper, supposing any had ever lodged there. But presently a brilliant idea struck her as she caught sight of a couple of logs lying in an outhouse, too heavy, perhaps, to be confiscated by any boys who might have played there. From one of these logs Ellen stripped a piece of birch bark, the inner side of which was smooth and clean. She bore it indoors in triumph. “See what I found,” she said as she extended her prize. “We can write on it as the Indians do.”

“Good Injun,” said Mabel. “What are you going to write? I’m out of this because it’s your find.”

Ellen demurred, but Mabel was firm, and finally Ellen wrote:

“Good day to you, fair sir! Seek not to penetrate the mysteries. Desire not the unattainable. Flesh may meet flesh, but spirit cannot behold spirit unless drawn by some heavenly means.
“The Ghost.”

She read it to Mabel, who immediately gave praise. “It’s fine,” she declared; “so delightfully mystifying and obscure. I’ll venture to say that Robert will be devoured with curiosity and won’t waste any time in answering.”

“Wouldn’t it be fatal if some one else should find it?” said Elle............