“Agreed!” replied Marjorie.
Notwithstanding her courage, it took Marjorie longer to go to sleep than she had expected. Unconsciously, as she lay there, she listened to every noise; but as they all came from without, she was not in the least fearful. Her mind seemed to be unusually active, so she began to plan out some menus, and to reckon up their financial status at the present moment. There was no doubt about it, the outlook was good; unless something unforeseen turned up to stop their business, the scouts would probably make enough money to support Mrs. Trawle and her baby in an economical manner all winter.
She thought of other summers—pleasant, useful summers in which their time had not been wasted—but she realized that no vacation had ever been so filled with service as this one. And, in consequence, she knew that it was her happiest.
Then her mind returned to John Hadley and his mother, and she recalled with gratitude how much they had done for her enterprise, how priceless their help had been. She began to dream of the associations this summer would hold for her with this loyal young man, and from her dreams she drifted peacefully into sleep.
Neither girl awakened until just before dawn—when a faint light was beginning to come in through the windows, making the outline of the objects in the room just barely visible. Marjorie was slowly aroused out of her sleep by a mechanical, repeated knocking. She sat up in her cot, wondering what it could be.
The sound seemed to come from below, and her first thought was that someone was trying to get in. It went on for another full minute; surely, she thought, Ethel must soon awaken. But her companion continued to sleep.
Summoning all her courage, she got out of her cot, and stepped noiselessly to the window, unhooked the screen, and leaned out. All was very still outside; not an automobile was passing, not a pedestrian stirring. But to her amazement, she realized that the rapping, though still audible at intervals, was not nearly so plain now as it had been in the room. What was the significance? Her heart fluttered wildly as she thought of the only possible interpretation: the knocking must come from within!
Thoroughly terrified now, she turned back into the room and wakened her sleeping companion. Ethel testified to the reality of the knocks—now coming only at stated intervals—but nevertheless still sounding.
“What can it be?” whispered Marjorie.
“I don’t believe in spirit rappings,” said Ethel, “but from what I’ve read of them, these knocks fit in remarkably well with their description.”