Part 13 (1/2)
When I came down to breakfast the next morning, the landlady in tears waylaid me.
”Oh, Mr. Wade,” she began in trouble-telling tone, ”this affair about the ghost is going to hurt my business. Some of those folks say they are going home, and they will tell others and--”
”I'll fix the ghost story. Just leave it to me!” I a.s.sured her optimistically, as we went into the dining-room.
There were only enough guests to fill one long table, and every one was excitedly dissecting the ghost.
I took my seat and also the floor.
”I hate to dispel your illusions,” I said cheerfully, ”but the fact is, I made a daylight investigation of the haunted house. First I looked in the window and I saw--”
”Oh, what did you see?” chorused a dozen or more expectant voices.
”A lot of--mice.”
”Oh!” came in disappointed and skeptical tones.
”But, the ghost, Mr. Wade?”
”Yes! The arms and the head?”
”A fake figure put up by some practical joker for the purpose of frightening timid people and encouraging the credulous. I didn't want to spoil your little picnic, so I kept still.”
”Those sounds, Lucien!” reminded Silvia.
”Were from a cat chorus. They were prowling about the house.”
”You're sure some lawyer, Mr. Wade,” doubtfully complimented my grateful landlady, as we went out of the room after breakfast.
”Lucien,” asked Rob _sotto voce_, joining me on the veranda, ”why don't the cats you speak of catch that lot of mice?”
Fortunately Beth came up to us, and I didn't have to explain.
”Oh!” she said with a shudder. ”I'll never go near that awful place!
I'd rather see a perfectly good ghost, or a loon, or a lunatic any day than a mouse.”
”You're surely not afraid of a mouse!” exclaimed Rob.
”Why not?” she asked coolly as she walked on.
”I told you she was feminine,” I reminded him.
He shook his head.
”I can't understand,” he remarked, ”why a girl who is afraid of mice should be--”
”You don't understand anything about women,” I interrupted.