Their search down stairs was no more fruitful. They passed through room after room, where the grinding of various grist had been done years ago. Here was more machinery, all in ruins. They peered out at the moss-covered mill-wheel, broken and shattered, below which was trickling a little stream of water.
But of ghosts, real or fancied, there was not a trace. There were even no unusual noises, though Mabel remarked that night was the time for them.
“Well, let’s make a fire,” suggested Natalie. “It’s damp and chilly in here. The boys have left us enough wood,” she said, as they all got back to the room where the fireplace was.
They kindled a little blaze, and were sitting about it, talking and laughing. Mabel was getting out the box of candy when Natalie, who was sitting nearest the chimney, raised her hand for silence.
They all listened.
“What is it?” whispered Mabel.
“Hush!” cautioned Natalie.
Then they all became aware of a faint, moaning cry. It was like some one sobbing at a distance.
The girls, with wide-opened eyes, looked at one another. Natalie softly arose and leaned nearer the opening of the fireplace.
“Come here!” she whispered to her companions.