After breakfast the girls roamed around the big house, nosing into corners, calling each other's attention to this and that queer ornament or article of furniture—and there were plenty of them,—and otherwise thoroughly enjoying themselves. But as yet they did not venture into the gloomy cellar with its mysterious tunnels.
In the drawing-room they found a queer old piano which Violet declared must date back farther than Revolutionary days and which Billie, amid gibes and laughter from her chums, tried to play.
After she had tried and failed on half a dozen different compositions, she gave up the attempt, and they roamed upstairs, looking through one room after another until Billie accidentally opened the door that led to the attic.
"Here's where we want to go, girls," she cried. "Mother said this was the spookiest place in the whole house—except the cellar."
"Hadn't we better get Mrs. Gilligan to go with us?" asked Violet, holding back. "After last night I've had enough spooky experiences to last me a week."
"Oh, come on," cried Laura, running ahead of them up the stairs. "I'll show you two 'fraid cats—"
"Who's a 'fraid cat?" cried Billie, starting in hot pursuit. "I'll have you know that nobody dares call me such names and get away with it. Come on, Vi, let's murder her."
"Just try it," Laura hissed at them dramatically from the head of the stairs. "I'd turn into another ghost and haunt you!"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, leave her alone, Billie," Violet entreated.
"We've got enough ghosts around here without Laura. What's that?"
"If you're going to scare me again," began Laura, but it was Billie this time who commanded silence.