“I hope not,” shivered Lucile. “I’ve been all warmed up over this trip the whole day through and now when we are actually on the way I feel cold as a clam and sort of creepy all over. Do—do you suppose it will be anything very dreadful?”
“Why, no!” laughed Florence. “Far as feelings go mine have been just the opposite to yours. I didn’t want to go and felt that way all day, but now it would take all the conductors in the service to put me off the train.”
With all the seriousness of a grown-up, the child purchased tickets for them all, and now gave them to the conductor without so much as suggesting their destination to the girls.
“I don’t know where I’m going but I’m on my way,” whispered Florence with a smile.
“Seems strange, doesn’t it?” said Lucile.
“Sh,” warned Florence.
The child had turned a smiling face toward them.
“I think it’s awfully good of you to come,” she beamed. “It’s a long way and I’m afraid we’ll be late getting home, but you won’t have to do anything, not really, just go along with me. It’s a dreadfully lonesome place. There’s a long road you have to go over and the road crosses a river and there is woods on both sides of the river. Woods are awful sort of spooky at night, don’t you think so?”
Florence smiled and nodded. Lucile shivered.
“I don’t mind the city,” the child went on, “not any of it. There are always people everywhere and things can’t be spooky there, but right out on the roads and in the woods and on beaches where the water goes wash-wash-wash at night, I don’t like that, do you?”