“Why, Barbara, are you dreaming? What does it mean?” cried Mollie, seizing her sister’s hand and pulling her over on the bed beside them. “Why haven’t you told us before?” she added with a sisterly reproach. “It’s no fair keeping secrets all the time.”
“I am tired of secrets, too,” said Bab, “I started with major and I’ll just finish the thing before I lay me down this night to rest.”
When Bab had concluded her ghostly tale the girls were really frightened. They tried the doors, opened all the closets and wardrobes and peered under the beds of both rooms.
“No one could climb up to these windows,” exclaimed Mollie. “But suppose there should be a secret door into one of these rooms?”
“What a horrible idea, Mollie Thurston!” exclaimed Ruth.
There was a sharp tap on the door. The four girls jumped as if they had been shot, and rushed together like frightened chickens.
“Girls,” said Miss Sallie’s voice, “go to bed this instant!”
“Right away, Aunt Sallie, dear,” answered her niece. When they were comfortably tucked in for the night, Ruth said to Bab:
“How do you suppose he knew your name?”
“I don’t know,” replied her friend, “unless I had a twin ancestor.”