“But she’s been dreadfully frightened, Susan,” cried Nan, sympathetically.
“She saw a ghost, Susan,” whispered Bess, perhaps a little wickedly.
Susan rolled her eyes. “Go ’long, chile! Wot ghos’?”
“The boathouse ghost, I declare!” said Bess, with decision. “Wasn’t it, Nan? All black—and small—and it squealed. Didn’t it, Nan?”
“It was a boy,” said her chum. “And he ran down cellar. Somebody ought to look into it.”
“Into the cellar?” asked Bess, with a giggle, as Susan “shooed” them out of the matron’s room and shut the door at their backs.
“Yes. Just that,” said Nan, decidedly.
“Where do you suppose that boy went—if it was a boy?”
“I know,” Nan said, hesitating at the top of the stairs.
“You know?” cried Bess.