“Ain’t—ain’t there ghosts there?”
“If there are they won’t hurt us,” said Jessie encouragingly. “Come on, child. I am getting wet myself.”
But little Henrietta hung back stubbornly. “Mrs. Foley says ha’nts carry off kids. Like my Bertha was carried off.”
“We have some nice lunch,” said Jessie, quickly. “You’ll forget all about the silly ghosts when you are helping us eat that.”
This invitation and prospect overcame the fear of ghosts in Henrietta’s mind. She began to trot willingly by Jessie’s side. But already the rain had saturated the girl from Roselawn as well as the child from Dogtown.
“Two more bedrabbled persons I never saw!” exclaimed Amy, when they arrived upon the porch. “Do come in. There is wood here and we can make a fire on the hearth. You can take off that skirt, Jess, and get it dry. And this poor little thing—well, she looks as though she ought to be peeled to the skin if we are ever to get her dry.”
She hustled Henrietta into the house, but kindly. She even knelt down beside her and began to unfasten the child’s dress after lighting the fire that she had herself suggested. “Spooks” were evidently wiped from Amy’s memory; but she flinched every time it lightened, as it did occasionally for some time.
“Say!” said the wondering Henrietta hoarsely. “I’m just as dirty as I was the other day. You don’t haf to touch me.”
“Oh, dear me!” cried Amy. “This child is never going to forgive me for that. Won’t you like me a little, Henrietta?”
“Not as much as that other one,” said the freckle-faced girl frankly.