The talk at the breakfast table was of little else than the tea-house; even the boys, and the good times they had been having were forgotten. Everyone felt optimistic; with such a day, such a menu, such workers, the opening could not be anything but a success. It was Lily who first introduced a discordant note into the conversation.
“Marj, you said you and I were on as waitresses after six o’clock. Shall we be alone?”
“Oh, no,” replied Marjorie. “Anna will stay until we go, if we want her to.”
“But she isn’t going to sleep there?” asked the other, with concern.
“No—though really it wouldn’t be a bad place to sleep, you know. Only that we have no beds, except the two army cots.”
“I don’t want anybody to take a chance after that story Agnes told us,” said Lily. “So don’t you think you ought to warn Anna?”
Several of the others laughed aloud at her fears, but Daisy and Mrs. Munsen took the matter more seriously.
“It isn’t well to fool with such things,” said the older woman. “Not that I actually believe in ghosts, but there may be some power—perhaps human power—that works for evil in that house. But I don’t think I would scare Anna by telling her.”
“Mercy no!” cried Marjorie. “She’d leave us, and then where would we be? No, girls, let’s make up our minds to forget it—it’s all silly, anyhow. Imagine how the boys would laugh at such nonsense!”
“All right!” agreed Lily, obediently, “I’ll promise to face the music in silence—even if I am to be the first to serve night duty this evening.”