“Well, I mean—er—anything!” and again Amy faltered.
“Oh, girls she means—the ghost!” exclaimed Betty, with a laugh. “Why not say it?”
“Don’t!” pleaded Grace.
“Now look here,” went on practical Betty. “There’s no use evading this matter. There’s no such thing as a ghost, of that we are certain, and yet if we shy at mentioning it all the while it will only make us more nervous.”
“The idea! I’m not nervous a bit,” declared Mollie.
“Well, then,” resumed Betty, “there’s no use in being afraid to use the word, as Amy seemed to be. So talk ghost all you like—you can’t scare me. I’m so tired I know I’ll sleep soundly, and I hope the rest of you will. Only, for goodness sakes, don’t be talking in weird whispers. That is far worse than all the ghosts in creation.”
“That’s what I say!” exclaimed Aunt Kate, who was an old-fashioned, motherly soul. “If the ghost comes I’m going to talk to it, and ask how things are—er—on the other side. Girls, it’s a great privilege to have a ghostly friend. If the man who owns this island knew what was good for him he’d advertise the fact that it was haunted. If Mr. Lagg were here I’d get him to make up a poem about the ghost. That would scare it off, if anything could.”
“That’s the way to talk!” cried Betty, cheerfully. “And now for a good night’s rest. Bur—r—r—r! It is cold!” and she shivered.
“I’m going to get some more blankets from the boat,” declared Mollie. “I know we’ll be glad of them before morning. Come along with me, Grace,” she added, after a moment’s pause, as she took up one of the lanterns. “You can help carry them.”
“And scare away the——” began Amy.