"There can't be anybody in the house," said Felicity.
"Well, here's the key—go and see for yourself," said Peter.
Felicity had no intention of going and seeing.
"I think you boys ought to go," she said, retreating behind the defence of sex. "You ought to be braver than girls."
"But we ain't," said Felix candidly. "I wouldn't be much scared of anything real. But a haunted house is a different thing."
"I always thought something had to be done in a place before it could be haunted," said Cecily. "Somebody killed or something like that, you know. Nothing like that ever happened in our family. The Kings have always been respectable."
"Perhaps it is Emily King's ghost," whispered Felix.
"She never appeared anywhere but in the orchard," said the Story Girl. "Oh, oh, children, isn't there something under Uncle Alec's tree?"
We peered fearfully through the gloom. There was something—something that wavered and fluttered—advanced—retreated—
"That's only my old apron," said Felicity. "I hung it there to-day when I was looking for the white hen's nest. Oh, what shall we do? Uncle Roger may not be back for hours. I can't believe there's anything in the house."
"Maybe it's only Peg Bowen," suggested Dan.
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