"Nothing," said her brother, composing his features as best he could; "only it's such a very odd coincidence, you know."
"Very odd indeed," remarked Dorry, gravely. The four looked at one another solemnly and questioningly, and then—it was impossible to help it—all four laughed.
"By Jove!" cried Lionel, between his paroxysms, "I do believe we have all come up here on the same errand!"
"I dare say we have," remarked Dorry; "there were some extremely queer echoes that came down to us from above."
"Not a bit queerer, I assure you, than some which floated up to us from below," retorted Johnnie, recovering her powers of speech.
"We thought it was doves."
"And we were sure it was ghosts,—affectionate ghosts, you know, on excellent terms with each other."
"Young, I want a word with you," said Dorry, drawing Lionel aside.
"And I want a word with you."
"And I want several words with you," cried Johnnie, brightly, putting her arm through Imogen's. She looked searchingly at her.