“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said Fred sharply. “You ask the other fellows if somebody didn’t call my name.” 

 “It did sound like it,” said John, “but then we were ready to believe almost anything and when Fred said there was somebody calling him we all heard ‘Fred’ on every side of us. What are we doing out here, anyway? Why don’t we go back there and look into it?” 

 “I’m going to look into it,” said Fred quickly, “but I’m not going to look when I can’t see. It’s so dark to-night that you can’t find anything.” 

 “You seem to have found some things that made you leave the room faster than George goes when he runs the hundred in ten flat.” 

 “Maybe I did,” admitted Fred, “but if I did I want to tell you I never ran a race in which I was so hard pushed as I was to-night. There wasn’t room to put a sheet of paper between Grant and me.” 

 “That’s all right,” spoke up Grant. “I didn’t take any part in your foolish conversation, but what I want to know is how you can account for these things.” 

 “If you ask me,” said George, “I’m not accounting for them.” 

 “But there’s some way to find out what these things mean. There isn’t one of us a big enough fool to believe that there is such a thing as a ghost and yet we got into the old Meeker House,—” 

 “If there isn’t any ghost,” spoke up George, “then I don’t see where the trouble is. You can’t be afraid of something that isn’t, can you?” 

 “I don’t suppose you can,” admitted Grant, “but sometimes you can be afraid of things you think are when they are not.” 

 “You’re getting too deep for me,” said Fred. “What I want to know is about those wings. That room seemed to be just full of something that was flying all around.” 

 “I’ll tell you what it was,” spoke up John. 

 “What was it?” inquired Fred quickly. 

 “Cherubs.” 

 “What?” 

 Prev. P 18/122 next