An uncanny silence followed Miss Thorne’s speech. Every one of the seven women looked unhappy and Mr. Stuart tried vainly to conceal a sense of uneasiness. But Chloe quietly beckoned the party from the room.
“I’ll jes’ show the ladies upstairs,” she explained gently and her mistress made no objection.
Miss Sallie would on no account sleep alone in such a dismal house. She shared a large chamber with Ruth and Bab. The countess asked to spend the night with Mollie and Grace, and Madame de Villiers, who was afraid of nothing, had a room to herself. Mr. Stuart went up to the third floor.
“Let us talk and laugh and try to be cheerful, girls,” proposed the countess. “This poor old soul is quite harmless, I believe, and she seems very sad. Perhaps we may be able to cheer her a little.”
“All right, my lovely countess,” replied Mollie. “Ghosts or no ghosts, we will do our best. But don’t count on me for much merriment. I’m a dreadful coward.” Mollie looked over her shoulder with a shudder.
The countess and Grace laughed, but quickly their laugh died.
The sound of weird music floated up through the dark hall. Their hostess, Miss Thorne, was playing the tall harp that stood in the parlor.
“Goodness!” cried Miss Sallie, “what will that poor soul do next? I should not be in the least surprised if the entire departed family were given places at supper to-night.” Which was exactly what happened. Four empty chairs were left at the table.
“Miss Thorne,” said Mr. Stuart, when they were all seated, “could you not be persuaded to visit the outer world? It would give my sister and me much pleasure if you would spend a few days with us at Palm Beach.”
A spark of pleasure lit up the hostess’s faded eyes for an instant. Then she shook her head sadly.