“Ugh! I don’t fancy going into the house,” said Amy. 64
“Why not?”
“The old place is kind of spooky.”
“Spooks have no teeth,” chuckled Jessie. “I heard of a ghost once that seemed to haunt a country house, but after all it was only an old gentleman in a state of somnambulism who was hunting his false teeth.”
“Don’t make fun of spirits,” Amy told her, sepulchrally.
“Why not? I never saw a ghost.”
“That makes no difference. It doesn’t prove there is none. How black those clouds are! O-oh! That was a sharp flash, Jessie, honey. Let’s run. I guess the haunts in the old Carter house can’t be as bad as standing out here in a thunder-and-lightning storm.”
“To say nothing of getting our lunch wet,” chuckled Jessie, following the dark girl up the grassy path with her arms filled to overflowing.
“Ah, dear me!” wailed Amy, hurrying ahead. “And those strawberries we came for. I am afraid I shall not have enough to eat without them.”
The ruin of the Carter house stood upon a knoll, several great elms sheltering it. The dooryard was covered with a heavy sod and the ancient flower beds had run wild with weeds.