They had just finished supper when Grace appeared, and the two little girls went up to Sylvia's room.
"What is it, Grace?" Sylvia asked eagerly. "I can't think what you want to tell me that makes you look so sober."
Grace looked all about the room and then closed the door, not seeing a little figure crouching in a shadowy corner.
"I wouldn't want anybody else to hear. It's about the ghost," she whispered. "I know all about it. It was Flora herself! Yes, it was!" she continued quickly. "When we were in her room this morning I saw a big hat with a long feather on it, hanging on her closet door, and a long blue skirt, one of her mother's. They weren't there yesterday, for the door was open, just as it was to-day."
"Well, what of that?" asked Sylvia.
"Oh, Sylvia! Can't you see?" Grace asked impatiently. "Flora dressed up in her mother's things, and then came up the stairs to our room. She was determined to make us think she had a truly ghost in her house. Then when you called out, she got frightened and stumbled on the stairs. You know we heard someone fall and cry out. Of course it was Flora. Nobody seems to know how she got hurt. The minute I saw that plumed hat I knew just the trick she had played. I knew there wasn't a ghost," Grace concluded triumphantly.
Sylvia felt almost disappointed that it had not really been "Lady
Caroline." She wondered why Flora had wanted to deceive them.
"I don't think it was fair," she said slowly.
"Of course it wasn't fair. I wouldn't have believed that a Charleston girl would do such a mean trick," declared Grace. "Of course, as we were her company, we can't let her know that we have found her out."
"Perhaps she meant to tell us, anyway," suggested Sylvia hopefully.
"I'm sure she did. She thought it would make us laugh."