The haze of smoke hung low as the station wagon parked near the depot. Judy sniffed the fumes and coughed.
“What a welcome for Aunt Mattie!” she remarked. “She’ll be scared to death that the fire will spread to this side of the river. And if we tell her about the ghost—”
“I don’t believe I’d do that,” Miss Ward advised. “And least not for a day or so. Why disturb her unnecessarily?”
“You’re right,” Judy promptly agreed. “If the ghost makes any more trouble, Aunt Mattie will find out about it soon enough. Mum’s the word.”
The train proved to be half an hour late. Finally it rumbled in, throwing up dust and cinders. Aunt Mattie Meadows was on the last Pullman car. She was a jolly-faced woman of forty-two, well turned out in a trim gray suit, with a white carnation in the lapel.
“Hi, Aunt Mattie!” Judy cried, rushing to greet her.
Miss Meadows enfolded her niece in a warm embrace, and then held her off at arm’s length for a better view.
“Why, you’re brown as an Indian!” she exclaimed. “What have you done to your complexion?”
“Liberal doses of sun, wind and lake water,” Judy chuckled. She turned to present Miss Ward and Ardeth.
Miss Meadows greeted them, made a few casual remarks and then sniffed the air. “Goodness! Do I smell smoke?” she demanded. “Is something on fire?”