“Ghosts aren’t alive.”
“Nothing moving, then,” and Jessie proceeded to march into the rather dark kitchen. “Here’s a table and some benches. You know, Miss Allister’s Sunday School class picnicked here last year.”
“Oh, I’ve been here a dozen times,” confessed Amy. “But always with a crowd. You know, honey, you are no protection against ghosts.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” laughed Jessie. She had put down the things she had brought up from 67 the lakeside, and now turned back to look out of the open door. “Oh, Amy! It’s coming!”
There was a crash of thunder and then the rain began drumming on the roof of the porch. Jessie looked out. The clearing about the house had darkened speedily. A sheet of rain came drifting across the lake toward the hillock on which the house stood.
“Do shut the door, Jessie,” begged Amy Drew.
“How ridiculous!” Jessie said again. “You can’t shut the windows. There!”
Another lightning flash blinded the girls and the thunder following fairly deafened them for the moment. But Jessie did not leave her post in the doorway. Something at the edge of the clearing—some rods away, at the verge of the thick wood—had impressed itself on Jessie’s sight just as the lightning flashed.
“Come away! Come away, Jess Norwood!” shrieked Amy.
“Come here,” commanded Jessie. “Look. Don’t be foolish. See that thing moving down there by the woods? Is it a human being or an animal?”