“No use taking any chances,” Sim remarked.
“What chances?” Arden asked, though, as a matter of fact, the same thought was in her own mind.
“Well, ghosts or some irresponsible workmen who might be camping out in here since they had the last séance.”
“Or tramps,” suggested Arden.
“Say, there’s a thought!” Sim exclaimed. “Perhaps tramps have been creating all this disturbance.”
“Why would they?” Arden was discounting her own suggestion.
“A band or bunch or school or congregation—whatever group tramps fit into—might have picked this place as hide-out, hang-out, or rendezvous, or whatever the proper term is,” said Sim, laughing. “And they might object to being dispossessed in the winter. They might even have hit upon the plan of making ghostly noises and manifestations to scare away the workmen. Then, if their scheme worked, they would be left in peaceful possession.”
“But we didn’t find any tramps here,” objected Arden. “And Harry didn’t find any. And surely they would have piled back in here after the workmen had gone—if there is a gang of tramps playing tricks.”
“Well, maybe I’m wrong,” Sim admitted. “Anyhow, there seems to be no one in here now, so let’s have a look at the room where we are to have Granny’s Christmas party. I’m game.”
The old Hall echoed weirdly to their footsteps, echoes that always seemed to dwell in untenanted houses. But the girls were not nervous. They were only going into that one room which was close to the entrance, and if anything happened they could run out quickly.