“Isn’t that marvellous?”
Marjorie began to execute a happy little dance about the room, every now and then picking up the telegram to re-read the message, and to make sure that it was really true. It was some minutes before the other girls could bring her down to earth and make her talk sensibly. Finally Agnes, who was a Philadelphia girl, asked her the exact location of the house in question, and succeeded in getting a rational reply.
“I believe I know the very house you mean,” she said, after Marjorie had described it and told of its location. “And to whom does it belong?”
“To a young man named Edward Scott—an Oxford student,” replied Marjorie.
“O—oh!” remarked Agnes, very knowingly.
“What’s the matter, Agnes?” demanded Marjorie. “Do you know anything about the place? We haven’t been inside—is it all right?”
“It’s perfectly charming, as far as I know.”
“Then why the mysterious oh?”
Agnes smiled slightly; it was fun to play upon the girls’ curiosity.
“Didn’t four or five people in that family die, one right after the other?” she asked.