He addressed the tallest, but she gazed at him vacantly, not understanding. The little girl stood next to her—the large tragic eyes in her small pale face still fixed on the unknown countenance of Mrs. Mulholland. She conveyed the impression that she had not heard any one speak.
George, blushing deeper, turned towards the third ghost standing before him, coughed again and repeated his question, "S'il vous plaît Londres?"
Then a strange thing happened. The third ghost smiled. It was a real smile, a gleaming smile, a smile with dimples. The ghost was suddenly transformed into a girl. "Merci. L'Angleterre nous plaît beaucoup." That was in order not to hurt the "half Frenchman's" feelings. Then she added in English, "London is very nice."
"Oh," snapped the astonished Mrs. Whitaker, "you speak English?" and her tone conveyed the impression that something belonging exclusively to her had been taken and used without her permission.
"A little," was the murmured reply. The smile had quickly died away; the dimples had vanished. Under Mrs. Whitaker's scrutiny the girl faded into a ghost again. The two ladies nodded and moved away. George and Eva, after a moment's hesitation and embarrassment, followed them.
"What strange, underhand behaviour!" commented Mrs. Whitaker; "never to have told me she understood English until today."
"I suppose they were trying to find out all your family concerns," said Mrs. Mulholland.
A word that sounded like "Bosh" proceeded from George, who had turned his back and was walking into the house.
"I think they were just dazed," explained Eva. "They look almost as if they were walking in their sleep. I never even noticed until today that they were all so young. Why, the little one is a mere kiddy;" she twisted round on her heel. "I think I shall go back and talk to them," she added.
"No," said her mother. "You will stay here."