“And we haven’t heard what happened!” added Blake. “Let Nat tell us the story of her life, and then we’ll go.”
“There isn’t really much to tell,” she answered. “I got a sudden notion in my head that I wanted to go to the old mill. I thought I would have time to row over and back before supper. So I just slipped away in the small canoe, and got to the place all right.”
“Weren’t you afraid?” asked Mabel.
“What of?”
“The ghost!”
“There wasn’t any when I was there,” went on pretty breath-of-the-pine-tree, as she leaned back on some pillows Mabel had put on the cot for her.
“I just thought I’d look around and see if I could discover what it was that looked like a face at the window that day I saw it. I started up the rickety old stairs, and I turned on my ankle and slipped down.
“Oh, dear! but it hurt. I tried to get up and I couldn’t and I didn’t know how long I’d have to stay there. I called for help, but the place was deserted since the old hermit moved out. Oh, I didn’t know what to do.”
“And weren’t you afraid—horribly afraid?” asked Marie.
“Not first along, I wasn’t. I didn’t imagine what could harm me. But I was afraid lest I should have to stay there all night. I knew I could never stand that.”