“We’ve got a flashlight,” Astrid said comfortably, “and Tip for sentinel. There isn’t anything to be afraid of that I can see.”
“Speak for yourself,” retorted Kit. “If we don’t see or hear something I’m going to be awfully disappointed. And if we do hear anything coming slowly upstairs, don’t flash the flashlight right at it until it has a chance to show itself. I hope it will be a lovely pale green.”
Etoile stopped short in the middle of the road, her eyes wide with dread.
“I think perhaps I’d better go right back now, girls.”
But Kit and Ingeborg promised faithfully to guard her if she would only stick the night out. They went on up the long wood road, past the falls above the mill, past Mud Hole where the boys fished for eels, past Otter Island where Matt came to fish, and on to the old spring house. It was set far back from the road in a garden overgrown with weeds and tall timothy grass, and tiger lilies grew rankly in green clumps along the gray stone walls. The little wooden shelter over the well was knocked over and the boards that protected the windows had been pulled half off. Jean went to the kitchen door and found it unlocked. Only wasps and spiders were to be seen, and one stout old toad that backed hurriedly out of sight under the stone doorstep.
“Let’s look it all over before it gets really dark,” she said, and they went in and out of each bare room, upstairs and downstairs, into the old musty cellar, even into the low-roofed loft over the summer kitchen.
“Now, we know there’s nothing here, don’t we?” Kit said, after the tour of inspection was over, and they sat out on the grass near the well, with their food spread around them. “How perfectly wonderful things taste after you’ve walked, don’t they? More ginger cookies, please, Hedda.”
“Which room are we going to sleep in?” asked Abby. “I’d just as soon sleep out here all night on blankets, wouldn’t you, Etoile?”
“We don’t care if you want to,” Doris agreed. “Try it on the little side porch. Then you can watch the cellar entrance because the ghost may decide to come up that way.”
It was getting quite dark by the time the supper was cleared away. Candles were lighted and set on the mantel in the front room and in the kitchen. Kit and Hedda had returned from a successful foraging expedition around the barn and corn house, and had brought back armfuls of hay to spread under their blankets on the floor. Tip, the brown water spaniel, took the whole affair very seriously and made the circuit of the grounds over and over again, chasing imaginary intruders.