She was unwise enough to allow her imagination to wake up, too. She stole from her bed and peered out of the screened window that faced the water. Almost at once a moving object met her frightened gaze.
It was a figure all in white which seemed to float down the lane between the tents and out upon the nearest boat-dock.
Afterward Jennie declared she could have suffered one of these spirit-looking manifestations in silence. She crammed the strings of her frilled nightcap between her teeth as a stopper!
This spectral figure was going away from the shack, anyway. It appeared to be bearing something in its arms. But then came a second ghost, likewise burdened. Gasping, Jennie waited, clinging to the window-sill for support.
A third spectre appeared, rising like Banquo’s spirit at Macbeth’s feast. This was too much for the plump girl’s self-control. She opened her mouth, and her half-strangled shriek, the partially masticated cap-strings all but choking her, aroused Ruth and Helen to palpitating fright.
“Oh! What is it?” demanded Helen, bounding out of bed.
“Ghosts! Oh! Waw!” gurgled Jennie, and sank back into her friend’s arms.
Helen was literally as well as mentally overcome. Jennie’s weight carried her to the straw matting with a bump that shook the shack and brought Ruth, too, out of bed.