"Haunted?" Betty finally gasped.

"A ghost?" echoed Amy, falteringly.

"What-- what kind?" Grace stammered.

"Why, the usual kind, of course," declared Will. "A ghosty ghost, to
be sure. White, with long waving arms, and clanking chains, and all
the accessories."

"Stop it!" commanded his sister. "You'll scare Paul," for the child
was looking at Will strangely.

"Oh, it's white all right," put in Mr. Lagg, "and some of the
fishermen around here did say they heard clanking chains, but I don't
take much stock in them. Tell me," he demanded, helping himself to
another slice of cheese, "tell me why would anything as light as a
ghost-- for they're always supposed to float like an airship, you
know-- tell me why should they want to burden themselves with a lot of
clanking chains-- especially when a ghost is so thin that the chains
would fall right through 'em, anyhow. I don't take no stock in that!"

"But what is this story?" asked Betty. "If we are thinking of camping
on Elm Island, we do not want to be annoyed by some one playing
pranks; do we, girls?"

"I should say not!" chorused the three.

"Well, of course I didn't see it myself," spoke Mr. Lagg, "but Hi