“Come on downstairs, Bab,” said Ruth. “Some one may suspect us if we don’t. Do, Bab. We are going on to play the game, just as you have been playing it by yourself. We will say nothing, but we will do some hard thinking; and, when the time comes, we shall act! To tell you the truth, if you will never betray me to Aunt Sallie, I think playing detective beats nearly any fun I know.”
“Eyeology” was no longer amusing the guests when the two girls came downstairs; indeed, the company had scattered and was talking in separate groups. Ruth and Bab joined Mollie and Grace, who were standing near Mrs. Post and their new acquaintance, the Countess Bertouche.
“Girls,” asked Mrs. Post, “would you like to join the Countess Bertouche and myself Saturday afternoon? We are going to explore old Newport; the old town is well worth seeing. The countess tells me this is her first visit to Newport, so, before she goes back to Paris, I want her to see that we have a little of the dignity that age gives.
“Why,” and Mrs. Post turned smilingly to the little group, “Newport boasts even a haunted house! It is not occupied, and I have the privilege of showing you over it. A story has been written about the old mansion. Here a young woman lived who loved an officer in Rochambeau’s fleet, when the gallant French sailor came over to these shores. But the sailor loved and sailed away, never to return. So the lady pined and died; but her presence still haunts the old house. You can feel her approaching you by a sudden perfume of mignonette. After we see all the sights of the town, we shall go to the old house at about dusk, so that we may have a better chance to discover the ‘spirit lady.’”
Mollie and Grace accepted Mrs. Post’s invitation with enthusiasm. Barbara and Ruth had to decline regretfully.
“You see, Mrs. Post,” Barbara explained, “Ruth and Hugh have to practice their tennis, every hour they can manage, until the tournament on Monday. Ruth has become a little out of practice since her accident, and must work hard at her game for the next few days. Ralph and I have promised to help by furnishing the opposition.”
“You’ll excuse Mollie and me from playing audience, won’t you, Ruth?” asked Grace. “We are going home so soon after the tournament is over that we can’t resist Mrs. Post’s invitation.”
“Barbara,” said Ruth, coming into Bab’s room, just as that young woman was about to step into bed, “can you imagine anyone whom Harry Townsend can be using as a confederate?”
“Sh-sh!” warned Bab. “Here comes Mollie. Don’t say anything. I haven’t the faintest idea.”