“I’m going, too,” said Jess, wiping her eyes vigorously.
“Had you better?” returned Chet, doubtfully. “You’re all strung up yourself over this, you know.”
“I won’t cry any more, Chet—don’t you fear,” declared the girl. “Let me go.”
“Just as you say, only I thought you wouldn’t go back to that house again.”
“I’ll go with you boys.”
“Ghosts and all?”
“If it’s a ghost it’s gone by now.”
“All right,” said Chet. “But it’s half after nine already. What will your mother say?”
“She’s at the Academic Club, and won’t be home for ever so long,” declared Jess. “Let me go with you to the garage.”
She followed the two boys to the rear of the Belding premises. Chet unlocked and slid back the garage doors. The touring car which his father owned was ready at a moment’s notice to be taken out. They kept no chauffeur, for both Mr. Belding and Chet could manage the machine, and had she been old enough to take out a license Laura could herself have spun the car over the roads about Centerport.