“No, no, my dear lady, I do not mean that I want to go to a séance, where the so-called medium throws flowers and things out of a cabinet, or toots trumpets and bangs cymbals! No, thank you, I’ve seen such often.”
“What would you choose as an experience?” asked Landon.
“I’d like to go to a house that is reputed haunted, and in circumstances that preclude all possibility of fraud, see the haunting spirits or hear them, for myself.”
“Me, too!” cried Vernie. “Oh, I do think that would be the rippingest fun! If you ever do it, Professor, mayn’t I go with you?”
“I’ll go along,” said Eve. “Wouldn’t that be a splendid proof! To have such a scientific and open-minded man as the Professor, and a few others who are in earnest and anxious to learn. You couldn’t go, Mr. Bruce. You are too sceptical.”
“I’m just the one you need,” he laughed. “A balance wheel to keep you enthusiasts straight. But haunted houses are not to be found on every bush in America. If we were in England now,—or Scotland.”
“They do have some over here,” Landon asserted. “I read of one recently, and I’ve heard of others.”
“Let’s find one,” suggested Eve, “and spend our summer vacation in it! Wouldn’t that be a lark?”
“Oh, do!” exclaimed Vernie. “I’d just love it! May I go, Uncle Gifford? Oh, please let me.”
“Only if I go myself, child. The spooks,—I beg their pardon, phantasms, might carry you off. I’ll have to go along to rescue you.”