“Could I have a little supper, ladies?” he inquired, politely.
Marjorie directed him to a table by the window, and handed him the menu. When she went out to fill his order, he turned to Lily.
“This is not my dog,” he remarked; “just a stray one that followed me, but he seems hungry. I wonder whether you have some crusts—”
“Yes, indeed!” replied Lily.
She called the poor scrawny animal into the kitchen, and gave him what to him was no doubt a feast. When she returned, the stranger thanked her profusely.
“I understand that you have just opened the tea-house?” he remarked, as he ate his supper.
“Yes,” replied Marjorie. “We are Girl Scouts, and we are doing it for charity.”
“Very good! Very good!” murmured the old man. “The house is familiar to me—I used to know Mr. Scott before he died.”
“Indeed!” remarked Lily.
“I suppose you’ve heard tales about its being haunted, and all that,” he continued. “Just because of so many deaths, I suppose. I did know a man, however, who wanted to put the saying to a test—that no creature can live through a night here—and he left his horse in the stable, not very long ago.”