“I don’t know. What do you?”
“I don’t know either,” said Scarlett, trying to move the board again. But it was firm as the rest of the stairs.
“Did you see that baluster?” said Fred.
“See it? No. What do you mean?”
“It seemed to me to move and make that noise.”
“Nonsense! How could it?”
“I don’t know, but it was just the same noise as it made when you missed your hold and swung round.”
“So it was; and I had hold of it,” said Scarlett, thoughtfully, as he laid his hand on the piece of turned and carved wood. “But it’s quite firm.” He gave it a shake, but with no effect. “You come and try,” he said.
Fred took his place, and shook the baluster, then the other—its fellow—but there was no result.
“I don’t know what to make of this,” said Scarlett. “I wonder whether all the stairs are made the same. There, never mind; let’s go and fish.”