“Did you know that you are going to have supper with us at home to-night, after our picnic dinner in the hills?” asked Nell.
“No, I didn’t. What fun! But Jan, shan’t we take something for the picnic?”
“Of course,” Jan answered, with a grin. “Say, I forgot all about that. Good thing that you spoke of it.” Jan turned his horse toward the house. “I told P’lina, though. There she comes now.”
From the back door Paulina this moment made her appearance with a package in her hands. As she approached, her sharp nose looked sharper than ever. Her solemn eyes surveyed the riders with no display of interest and her stolid face was without a smile. A small shawl decorated her shoulders, pinned across her breast, but the tight knot of black hair was without a covering and the spring breeze blew a wiry wisp over her forehead.
“I think that it is going to rain,” said she shortly, as she gave the neat package to Jan, with something for tying it to his saddle. She had given a curt nod in the direction of the Clydes.
“Oh, now, Paulina,” said Jan, grinning down at her, “don’t be a calamity howler. We’ll get under a rock somewhere if it does. Any other woes that you can think of?”
Jannet was quite shocked at Jan’s frankness and expected to see “Old P’lina” show some offense. Far from this, the stony features almost relaxed into a smile, so Jannet thought. “Be careful,” Paulina said. “An owl hooted all last night and the ghost walked over my head.” With this cheerful announcement, Paulina turned away.
“What did Paulina mean, ‘over her head’?” asked Nell Clyde.
“Rats in the attic, Nell. I heard ’em, too.” So Jan explained.
But Paulina had overheard and looked back over her shoulder. “We have no rats,” said she, “and rats don’t tiptoe down imaginary stairs. It was her again.”