to find one. When we get some of these other affairs off our minds, we will have to go and watch for it again."
"Y—yes," assented Betsey. She was not entirely sure whether she cared to investigate further.
"There is one thing that I have found out," he went on. "I came across the grounds of the old house this evening while it was still light, to gather up some of the books I used to keep there and that I will not use again. And I found that these last spring storms have weakened and washed out those broken walls worse than ever, so that nothing but a ghost or goblin could walk over them without coming to grief."
Betsey said good night to David, good night to Miss Miranda, tiptoed down the dimly lighted hall and closed the door of her own room.
"You must go to sleep early," Miss Miranda had said. "I know you are tired after your hard three days."
Weary she was, but not sleepy at all. She felt a restless uneasiness nor, try as she would, could she shake off the haunting depression caused by Michael's fantastic notion. She sat by the window, watching big dark clouds creep upward from the horizon and blot out the stars, she wandered about the room, she tried to read, she tried to sleep, but all to no purpose. It was impossible to put out of
