It was growing late—they had spent more time on the ground than they had realized, and Linda felt uneasy. If darkness came on before they reached a town, the girl might die before they found a hospital. And besides, Linda’s Aunt Emily, who was always worrying about her, would be sure that she had been kidnaped or killed.
The girl in Dot’s lap seemed perfectly inert as the time passed, until the sun set. Then she uttered a queer moan.
“Does your head hurt?” asked Dot, in her ear.
“Yes—but that isn’t it. I’m—I’m—afraid!”
“Of an airplane? I can assure you that you’re with one of the best pilots in the world!”
“Oh, not that! I’m not afraid of flying!”
“What then?”
“Of the dark,” she whispered, fearfully. “Of—ghosts!”
Dot looked at the girl as if she were crazy. In these modern times—how had she been brought up? If she were a child of six, it would have been different. She wondered whether she could have understood her correctly, the motor was making so much noise. She bent over and asked her to repeat what she had said.
“Ghosts!” replied the girl. A frightful shiver ran through her whole body, so intense that Dot could feel it in hers. She thought the girl was delirious.