“Nonsense, Phrosy, what a ridiculous thing to say.”
Miss Alling’s tone was sharp as she pushed past the colored woman into the house.
“But, Miss Emma, I done tell yo’ Ah knows what Ah’m talkin’ about,” persisted Phrosy. “’Taint no ’magination. Ah done heered ’em screechin’.”
“Well, suppose you light a lamp or two,” Miss Alling suggested, adding dryly: “Ghosts don’t like light, you know. Probably they will wait till we go to bed to bother us.”
Phrosy groaned and the girls giggled nervously.
“Den I don’t nebber go to bed no mo’e, Miss Emma,” said the colored woman, while she went about lighting the rooms to a mellow cheerfulness.
“You could take a lamp to bed with you, Phrosy,” suggested Amy.
“Wouldn’t take dose ghosts more’n one second to put out dat light, li’l missy. An’ den where’d Ah be?” she said darkly.
“What is this we hear about ghosts?” asked a laughing, masculine voice from the doorway, and the girls turned gleefully to greet the boys.
“Come on in, do,” cried Jessie. “There is one attraction here that we didn’t bargain on. Phrosy says there are ghosts in the swamp.”