“It’s the not speaking,” explained Artie. “That does it.”
Polly stared at her brother.
“The—the what?” she demanded.
“Not speaking. You know, even if some one calls to you or asks a question, you can’t say a word till you’ve been all around and come back,” said Artie.
“You never said anything about that,” Margy informed him. “Can’t we speak while we’re walking around the house?”
“My, no, not a word,” said Artie, placidly. “After you make the wish, you can’t say another word till you’ve been up- and downstairs and around the house and barn.”
“Let’s do that! It sounds awfully spooky,” declared Margy.
“Be sure you find out about the false-faces to-night, Fred,” said Polly. “If your father hasn’t any, we’ll have to make some.”
Nothing ever daunted Polly. If she could not find what she wanted ready-made, she made it herself.
“And another thing,” said Margy. “Being the Riddle Club, why can’t we ask some riddles? I mean short ones—one apiece.”