The girls and boys burst into the lodge to find Phrosy on her knees, hands raised heavenward in supplication.

“Dos ghosts is after me! Ah done knows it! Dis time dey gwine kill me fo’ sure!”

“Nonsense, Phrosy,” scolded Miss Alling, but even her voice was not so assured as usual. “That was only a fog horn.”

“An’ what am a fog horn doin’ out in dat swamp, Miss Emma?” quavered the colored woman. “Ain’t no boats out dere as Ah knows on.

“What do you suppose it was?” gasped Amy, her face white in the lamp light. “I never heard anything so dreadful!”

“It was de ghosts, Miss Amy,” shrieked Phrosy, as she got lumberingly to her feet, threw her apron over her head, and dashed into her room, leaving them staring vacantly after her.

“Shut the door, somebody, do!” cried Jessie, in a voice just above a whisper. “It will keep out that sound. Listen—there it is again!”

“My advice is not to listen,” said Darry, in a strange, gruff voice. “I think it would do us all good to eat something.”

His last words were drowned by another shriek from Phrosy, and they all rushed into her room to find her standing before a window, her eyes rolling with fright. She was shaking as though she had the palsy.

They ran to the window and followed the direction of her pointing finger. The sight they witnessed then was enough to test the stoutest nerves.

Down by the swamp moving stealthily among the trees were shrouded, shadowy figures, white and vague of outline. While they watched, the figures disappeared slowly, seeming to dissolve into the shadows beyond their range of vision.

Phrosy was sobbing hysterically, and even the level-headed young folks were severely shaken.

“Let’s get out of here—you, too, Phrosy,” said Jessie suddenly. “It won’t do any good to stand there looking out toward the swamp and watching for things. We will stay on the other side of the house for the next hour or so.”

“What do you suppose the answer is, Darry?” Burd asked some time later, when they had so far pacified and cajoled Phrosy as to induce her to start preparations for a meal.

Jessie had suggested a fire in the grate with the idea of making the room more cheerful, and, though the weather was not cool enough to warrant it, the others had cordially assented to the suggestion.

Now the young folks were gathered about the fire in a cozy semicircle while Aunt Emma was engaged in “managing” Phrosy in the kitchen.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what it means,” said Darry, in response to Burd’s question. “Only I am sure it must be some kind of a fake,” he added. “Just give us a little time, and we will show it up.”

“That is just my idea,” said Fol, eagerly. “What do you say to starting out to investigate that swamp in earnest early to-morrow morning?”

“A clever idea, Fol,” applauded Burd. “Just what I was about to suggest myself.”

“Why the look of deep thought, Darry, dear?” asked Amy, who had been regarding her brother with interest. “Aren’t you enthusiastic about meeting our friends, the ghosts, face to face?”

Darry turned to her, an absent look in his eyes.

“Why, I can’t to-morrow,” he said hesitantly.

“I have——”

“A date!” finished Burd, adding dryly: “I reckon I could tell where it is and with whom, too. And all that without the slightest pretensions to clairvoyance, either.”

Darry shot him an annoyed glance and his eyes once more sought the fire. His silence was ominous.

Jessie, looking at him, became suddenly conscious that she was rather angry at Darry.

“If you are going to Gibbonsville, I don’t see why you won’t tell us about it,” she said, and Darry stirred uncomfortably.

“I just want to run down there for an hour or two,” he finally said, with a forced lightness that was evident to them all. “I suppose we can hunt ghosts in the afternoon just as well as in the morning, can’t we?”

“I don’t suppose it is really necessary to hunt them at all,” said Amy, coolly, adding with the privileged frankness of a sister: “Really, Darry, this mystery business is getting on our nerves. I think I may say without any fear of contradiction, that you are annoying your friends, immensely.”

“Sorry,” said Darry, not at all in the tone that carries conviction; and there the matter dropped for the time being.

Dinner was served and the young folks gathered eagerly about the table.

That night Phrosy again spent the hour............