“I guess I do,” responded Fred.
“Well, what’s the matter?” demanded John. “You haven’t told us where you have been nor what you have been doing.”
“I can’t. I can’t now,” said Fred. “Give me a chance to rest up.”
“You need a bath more than you need a rest,” declared George laughingly, as he became convinced that nothing serious had happened to his friend. “Come upstairs and I’ll see that you get what you deserve.”
“It’s lucky everybody doesn’t get what he deserves. If he did—”
“Never mind that,” directed George. “Come on upstairs and take your bath and get a change of clothes and you’ll feel in your right mind once more.”
Acting promptly upon the suggestion Fred withdrew from his friends for a time and a half-hour later, when he returned to the piazza, he was not able entirely to conceal his feeling of chagrin. It was true that he had had some strange experiences, but it was difficult now to believe that they were all real. Certainly his companions were very much in evidence and as they seated themselves, George said promptly, “Now my lad, tell us what happened to you.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you,” said Fred, “that I went over to the old Meeker House.”
“That’s just what I thought,” laughed George, “and you stayed there until it was so dark that you heard those strange noises again, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I did that, and a good deal more.”