“I believe I will turn in,” Miss Meadows said, covering a yawn. “You’ll be sure to lock all the doors?”
“Every one,” Judy promised.
The sink was fairly loaded with dishes, for Aunt Mattie did not skimp on them when she cooked a meal. After scouring the last stubborn pan, Judy hung up the dish rag with a tired sigh.
“Shall we turn in?” she asked Ardeth.
“We may as well, I guess. Wonder what the girls are doing at Pine Cone?”
“Singing songs and telling stories by the camp fire, like as not. Wish you were there, Ardeth?”
“Someone should stay here this first night with your aunt. I don’t mind, Judy. Do you suppose—”
“We’ll have a serenade from our friend with the flute?” Judy supplied. “For Aunt Mattie’s sake I hope not. If she hears about a ghost on top of hi-jackers and a forest fire, she’s likely to pack her suitcase and leave.”
Ardeth had moved to the open kitchen door. “There isn’t as much smoke in the air now,” she reported. “Either the wind is carrying it the other direction, or the fire has died down.”
After closing the windows and making certain the doors were locked, the two girls presently went to their bedroom which adjoined the one Miss Meadows had taken.