“But they say there are underground passages from the unfinished part of the Hall, down there.”
“What were they for?”
“Maybe smugglers,” replied Bess, big-eyed at her own thought.
“Well! I never!”
“Lots of smuggling about Freeling years ago. Henry says so,” declared Bess, stoutly.
“Goodness! what have you been reading?” demanded Nan. “Dime novels, I do believe, Bess Harley!”
“Just wait!” said her chum, prophetically. “I’m afraid we’ll get into trouble over this after all.”
And she was quite right; but it was not at all the sort of trouble Bess expected.
The chums obtained permission to go down town shopping and they made arrangements with the caterer for the supper to be ready on a certain evening—salads, sandwiches, and cake in hampers; cream packed in ice; coffee and chocolate ready to warm on a stove which Nan knew would be in readiness; and plates, cups and saucers, knives and forks, and all other needfuls packed in proper containers, to be transported by water.
Nan had already bribed Henry; for the place where she was determined to have the banquet was in an unused part of the big boathouse, a sort of kitchen and dining room where there was a stove. Picnics had been held there before; but never at night. Many of the girls had declared they would not go there after dark because of the ghost. But Nan was determined to prick the bubble of that superstition. Where one girl would not go for fear of the supernatural, twenty-five would be afraid not to go because of the ridicule that would fall upon them.