"Not if I have a dozen lovers go to Europe. How is that fire going to be built, I'd like to know?—every stick of wood burned out last night."
There was no way but to go down into the wood-shed and get some. It was yet early, and quite dark.
"Go the back stairs," said Gypsy, "so's not to wake people up."
Joy opened the door, and jumped, with a scream that echoed through the silent entry.
"Hush-sh! What is the matter?"
"A—a—it's a ghost!"
"A ghost! Nonsense!"
Gypsy pushed by trembling Joy and ran out. She, too, came back with a jump, and, though she did not scream, she did not say nonsense.
"What can it be?"
It certainly did look amazingly like a ghost. Something tall and white and ghastly, with awful arm extended. The entry was very dark.