“Gee, Arden, I was afraid Moselle would get all worked up, and then you know what she’d do? Write to Mother and Dad and get them all excited. She doesn’t miss a thing. And she’s very superstitious.”
“I forgot about her,” Terry admitted pulling a turtle-necked sweater over her head. “Wounded soldier! I guess that’s what we heard. Certainly sounded like footsteps to me. Don’t you love it? What did Dick say, Arden?”
“Not much,” Arden answered. “We were too busy with the horses. Did you notice how scared they were?”
“Say,” interrupted Sim happily, “won’t Dot love this! Bet she won’t want to sit around and play contract now.”
“Oh, contract—who wants to do that? There’s something queer about that place, and I’m going to find out what it is before I have to go back to school,” announced Arden emphatically.
“We’re with you, Arden! You can’t leave us out of any such excitement as that,” Terry decided. “Can she, Sim?”
“I should say not!” Sim said, and striking a dramatic pose sang out: “All for one, one for all! Arden, Terry, and Sim!”
“And Dorothy,” supplemented Arden. “She’ll be here tomorrow. Let’s take her out to see the house in the afternoon.”
“Yes,” agreed Sim. “That will be fun, and maybe we’ll see the soldier.”
At this point in their plans the dulcet tones of the luncheon bell could be heard coming from below, and Terry was obliged to slip her sweater on again. In the end they all ate in riding clothes and talked of subjects far from their minds lest Althea, who was serving, should carry ghost stories back to her mother in the kitchen.