"Want to come with me?"
"No, sir."
"Well, that's plain enough," said Gayne, laughing and looking around on the company.
"He's a very foolish boy," said Miss Emerson, "when he has an opportunity to watch you sketch."
"Oh, Mr. Gayne!" cried Veronica. "Don't go until you tell us about the haunted farm."
"Where did you ever hear about that?" asked the artist, looking with some favor on Veronica's round and dimpled personality. "I thought you were a stranger here."
"I am, but Genevieve Wilks has just been telling me that you really saw the spook."
Gayne laughed. "When I came up here last summer, I was told about the haunted farm, and, of course, I was interested in it at once. There are some particularly good views from there. So, naturally, I became one of the ha'nts myself and spent a lot of time with them."
"Oh, but tell us what it looked like," persisted Veronica. "Did you really think you saw one?"
"What a subject for this time of a clear, sunny day," said Gayne, lightly. "Wait until the thunder rolls some stormy night," and, lifting his cap, he hurried away through the field, his sketch-book under his arm.