“You mean burned,” spoke up Fred promptly.
“No, I don’t mean ‘burned’ the witches, I mean ‘hanged,’” retorted Grant. “There are some ignorant people who sometimes talk about the people of the Salem Colony burning witches, but they didn’t burn them—they hanged them.”
“Pardon me,” said Fred demurely. “I stand corrected.”
“But there really is something queer about this house,” said George. “I know, for I’ve been there.”
The boys all looked back at the little building, which now was far behind them. The quiet that rested upon it seemed like that of a cemetery. It plainly belonged to another generation.
“What do you mean by its being haunted!” demanded Fred, at last breaking in upon the silence.
“I’m telling you what the common report is,” said George, somewhat testily. “Everybody says it is haunted.”
“But you said you yourself knew it was.”
“No, I didn’t. I said there was something peculiar about it.”
“Go on with your story, George,” called John. “Don’t keep us in this burning suspense. What was it?”