“Oh, Jessie! Maybe it is a ghost,” murmured Amy.
But her curiosity overcame her fears sufficiently for her to join Jessie at the doorway. Through the falling rain the chums were sure that 68 something was moving down by the woods.
“It’s a dog,” said Amy, after a moment.
“It’s a child,” declared Jessie, with conviction. “I saw its face then.”
“Perhaps it is the Carter ghost,” breathed Amy. “I never heard whether this haunt was a juvenile or an adult offender.”
“I guess you are not much afraid after all,” said her chum. “Yes, it is a child. And it is getting most awfully wet.”
“Wait! Wait!” the girl from Roselawn cried. “Don’t run away from me.”
Whether the child heard and understood her or not, it gave evidence of being greatly frightened. She covered her face with her hands and sank down on the wet sod, while the rain beat upon her unmercifully. There was no shelter here, and Jessie Norwood herself was getting thoroughly wet.
In a calm moment that followed the child piped, without taking down her hands.
“Are—are you the ha’nt?”