Sairy bridled and blushed at this. But she wasn’t an unkind girl, and she helped ’Phemie gather their possessions–especially the latter’s wet clothing.
“I’m sure I wish ye joy up there at the old house,” said Sairy, with a shudder. “But ye wouldn’t ketch me.”
“Catch you doing what?” asked ’Phemie, wonderingly.
“Stayin’ in Dr. Phelps’s old house over night,” explained Sairy.
“Why not?”
The farmer’s daughter drew close to ’Phemie’s ear and whispered:
“It’s ha’nted!”
“What?” cried ’Phemie.
“Ghosts,” exclaimed Sairy, in a thrilling voice. “All old houses is ha’nted. And that’s been give up to ghosts for years an’ years.”
“Oh, goody!” exclaimed ’Phemie, clasping her hands and almost dancing in delight. “Do you mean it’s a really, truly haunted house?”