“Whatever he is, he’s stopped to rest,” said Babe. “If he doesn’t begin again you’d be willing to go back to bed, wouldn’t you? Or I’ll go back and you can stay here.”
“Listen.” Babbie clutched Babe’s arm. “There’s a noise on the stairs.”
There was, and presently it came nearer down the hallway to the door. It was a queer noise like a stealthy step with a dull thump accenting it sharply now and then. Presently it stopped, somewhere out in Babbie’s hallway, there was the click of a key in a lock, and then the steps began again, coming slowly back through the hall and down the stairs.
“Does sound ghostly,” admitted Babe, “and it doesn’t sound a bit drunk. And it can’t be a boarder because it’s going out again.”
“Well, as long as it’s gone, I guess I dare to go back,” said Babbie presently. “You watch me down the hall, Babe.”
“Stay here, if you’d rather,” Babe offered again, but Babbie insisted that she wasn’t afraid and went off, her candle flickering in the draughty passageway. The next thing Babe knew the sunshine was sifting through the branches of the magnolia tree and her watch said half-past eight o’clock. So, forgetting that it had been half an hour fast the night before, she dressed in a tremendous hurry and was astonished when she peeped out from behind her curtains as usual to see who was down, to find only a solitary gentleman breakfasting in the farthest corner of the garden.
“Why it looks like—it is John Morton,” she said to herself. “Now what in the world is he doing here, I should like to know?” And she sat down on the edge of her bed in a fashion that seemed to say, “If any one thinks I’m going down to breakfast now, he’s much mistaken.” But the very next minute she jumped up again, surveyed herself anxiously in the glass, and, without stopping to get Madeline and Betty, as the first one to be ready always did, marched down-stairs and out into the court. Her start of surprise when she came into sight of John would have secured her a part in the senior play at Harding, but John was so surprised himself that any bungler could have taken him in.
“You here?” he gasped.
“Yes,” said Babe, coolly. “Didn’t you know it?”
“Of course not. Some friend of Dwight’s gave us the address. It’s very near to the big library where he’s got to bone.”