“It will soon be torn down now,” Arden said. “And, really, I don’t believe it’s a ghost house at all. Those are only silly stories. Your husband’s accident is explainable on perfectly natural grounds, I’m sure we’ll find out. Now we must go. But you will need help. Can’t we get some neighbor in?”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson—she lives in the next house down the road—she will come in, I think.”
“I’ll get her,” offered Sim. “You wait here, Arden.”
Sim soon returned with the kind neighbor, and as the girls had done all they could do, they said good-bye, promising to come again.
“And tell me another fairy story!” stipulated Suzanne.
“I will, my dear. You can tell your father the one I told you when he gets better, as he soon will.”
“I’ll do that—yes.” Suzanne was cute and had fascinating dimples.
Sim and Arden drove away as the sun was beginning to set. They must pick up Terry and Dot.
“Well,” remarked Sim as she speeded the little roadster along, “we’ve got something to think of now.”
“I think,” said Arden seriously as she recalled the pathetic scene back at Jim Danton’s house, “that we have a stronger motive than ever in finding out about this ghost business—I mean a stronger motive than just trying to help Granny Howe prove her right to the place.”