"Easily!" said Celia. "I don't know what more you're waiting for! I shan't know a quiet moment if I have to stay in this place another day."
Margaret was looking from Charles to her brother. "Go on, Peter. You think we ought to give the place another chance?"
"I do. Hang it all, we shall look a pretty good set of asses if we bunk back to town simply because we've heard a few odd noises, and discovered a skeleton in a priest's hole."
"Shall we?" said Celia, with awful irony. "I suppose we ought to have expected an ordinary little thing like a skeleton?"
"Not the skeleton, but we might have guessed there'd be a priest's hole. Be a sport, Celia! If you actually see a ghost, or if any more skulls fall out of cupboards I'll give in, and take you back to town myself."
Celia looked imploringly at her husband. "I can't, Chas. You know what I am, and I can't help it if I'm stupid about these things, but every time I open my wardrobe I shall be terrified of what may be inside."
"All right, darling," Charles replied. "You shan't be martyred. I suggest you and Margaret and Aunt Lilian clear out to-morrow. I'll run you up to town, and…'
Celia sat bolt upright. "Do you mean you'll stay here?"
"That's rather the idea," he admitted.
"Charles, you can't!" she said, agitated. "I won't let you!"