"I would have come even if you hadn't, Val," she answered generously and untruthfully. It was perhaps the kindest thing she had ever said.
Now that the noise of the catastrophe had died away they could hear again the drip of water. And that sound tortured Val's dry throat. A glass of cool water—He turned his head restlessly.
"If we only had a light," came Ricky's wish.
"The flash is probably buried."
"Val, will—will it be fun?"
"What?" he demanded, suddenly alert at her tone. Had the dark and their trouble made her light-headed?
"Being a ghost. We—we could walk the hall with Great-uncle Rick; he wouldn't begrudge us that."
"Ricky! Stop it!"
Her answering laugh, though shaky, was sane enough.
"I do pick the wrong times to display my sense of humor, don't I? Val, is it so very bad?"