Mrs. Vand rose also. "Let us shelve the subject," she said grandly, "and you can tell Bella that I am willing to forgive and forget. If she likes to come to our Harvest Home, she can do so. I am not the one to bear malice. It is the last Harvest Home we shall have," prattled Mrs. Vand, as her hostess skilfully edged her towards the door. "Henry does not intend to sow wheat again, and the grounds of Bleacres will be thrown open to the public."
"People are not fond of wandering in marshes," said Dora dryly. "If you want to please us, throw open the Manor-house. That is interesting, if you like."
"And haunted," said the visitor in a thrilling whisper; "do you know of any sad legend connected with the Manor-house, Miss Ankers?"
"No!" snapped Dora, tartly; then her curiosity got the better of her dislike for Mrs. Vand. "Is it really haunted?"
"There are footsteps, and whisperings, and rappings in the twilight. I told Henry that if this sort of thing continued, I should leave the place."
Privately, Dora wished that she would, and thus rid the neighbourhood of a most undesirable presence, but aloud she merely remarked that the noises might be due to rats, a suggestion which Mrs. Vand scouted.
"It's a ghost, a ghost!" she insisted—"all old families have a ghost. But do not let us talk of it," she continued, looking round with a shudder; "already the thing has got on my nerves. To go to a more pleasant subject: let me invite you for a row on the water."
"A row on the water?" echoed Dora, who knew of no lake in the neighbourhood.
"On the channel at the end of my grounds," explained Mrs. Vand. "Henry has bought a rowing-boat, and takes me far into the country. You can almost reach the railway line before you get to the swamps. Do come."
"I'll think about it," said Miss Ankers, only anxious to get her visitor out of the house before Bella came back.