Darry shot him an annoyed glance and his eyes once more sought the fire. His silence was ominous.
Jessie, looking at him, became suddenly conscious that she was rather angry at Darry.
“If you are going to Gibbonsville, I don’t see why you won’t tell us about it,” she said, and Darry stirred uncomfortably.
“I just want to run down there for an hour or two,” he finally said, with a forced lightness that was evident to them all. “I suppose we can hunt ghosts in the afternoon just as well as in the morning, can’t we?”
“I don’t suppose it is really necessary to hunt them at all,” said Amy, coolly, adding with the privileged frankness of a sister: “Really, Darry, this mystery business is getting on our nerves. I think I may say without any fear of contradiction, that you are annoying your friends, immensely.”
“Sorry,” said Darry, not at all in the tone that carries conviction; and there the matter dropped for the time being.
Dinner was served and the young folks gathered eagerly about the table.
That night Phrosy again spent the hours between midnight and dawn sitting upright in the living room with an oil lamp for company. And in the morning the girls found that her bag was packed and that she could not this time be coaxed from her firm determination to leave the lodge before darkness came again.
In every way things seemed topsy-turvy, and they were torn between annoyance at Phrosy’s decision and bewilderment at Darry’s insistence that he possessed an unbreakable engagement in town.
He went away abruptly right after breakfast, seeming in a great hurry to avoid any inconvenient questioning by them. They watched him go, and in uncomfortable silence turned back to the house.