“What in the world are they doing?” said Aunt Diana. “They can not be sowing seed in the middle of the night, can they?”
“They look like two ghouls,” said Sara, “and one of them has—yes, I am sure one of them has a bone.”
“It is Miss Sharp and the Professor,” said John.
It was. We streamed over in a body and confronted them. “So interesting!” began Miss Sharp, in explanatory haste. “At various times the fragments of no less than eight skeletons have been discovered here, it seems, and we have been so fortunate as to secure a relic, a valuable Huguenot relic;” and with pride she displayed her bone.
“Of course,” said Sara, “a massacre! What did I tell you, Martha, about their arising from the past and glaring at me?”
“Miss Sharp,” began Aunt Diana, grimly, “where is Iris?”
“Oh, she is right here, the dear child. Iris! Iris!”
But no Iris appeared.
“I assure you she has not left my side until—until now,” said the negligent shepherdess, peering about the shadowy garden. “Iris! Iris!”
“And pray, Miss Sharp, how long may be your ‘now?’ ” demanded Aunt Diana, with cutting emphasis.