"If you mean--ghost--say so," but she herself hesitated over the word.
"If that was the ghost it was the queerest one I ever saw!" declared Mollie, with resolution. "I don't just mean that, either," she hastened to add, "for I never saw a ghost before. But in all the stories I ever read ghosts were tall and thin, of the willowy type"
"Like Grace," put in Betty, with rather a wan smile.
"Don't you dare compare me to a ghost!" commanded the "Gibson girl," with energy that brought the blood to her pale cheeks. She ventured to peer out from under the tent flap now. "Is it--is it gone?" she faltered.
"It's in the lake--whatever it was," said Mollie. "But wasn't it oddly shaped, Betty?"
"It was indeed. And it made plenty of noise. Real ghosts never do that."
"Oh, some do!" asserted Amy. "I read the 'Ghost of the Stone Castle,' a most fascinating story, and that ghost always rattled chains, and made a terrible noise."
"What did it turn out to be?" asked Aunt Kate.
"The story didn't say. No one ever found out."
"Well, this one is exactly like Mr. Lagg de-
