“There aren’t any such things,” declared Cora.
“Maybe it’s lightning,” suggested Mr. Floyd. “We have pretty heavy thunderstorms up here.”
“Lightning can’t move furniture, nor carry off looking glasses and hair ribbons,” Cora went on.
“Well, once lightning struck Jim Dobson’s cabin,” the caretaker said, “and knocked all his pots and pans off the stove, and burned a hole right through his clock.”
“That’s within the bounds of possibility,” admitted Jack.
“It’s boys!” decided Walter. “You’ll find that some youngsters are up to these tricks, and they’re cute enough to cover up their tracks.”
“That’s it,” said Paul. “They’re too cute. They don’t leave any tracks. How they get in and out again, without leaving a clew or a mark is more than I can see.” For an examination of the place after the losses suffered by Cora and Hazel had disclosed no apparent means of egress or ingress.
One evening when the girls had gone over to the boys’ bungalow to sit and talk, Cora, who had gone to the end of the porch, whence a view could be had of the other building, uttered an exclamation.
“There’s a light in our bungalow!” she called. “Did we leave one burning?”
“No,” answered Belle. “I put it out, as I was afraid of fire.”