_In Which Nothing Much Happens_
"Why Hope Haven?" asked Rob reflectively, when he had taken inventory
of the possibilities of the resort.
"Because," sighed Silvia, "so many hopes--vacation hopes--must have
been buried here."
Rob was of an investigating turn of mind, however, and he had heard
from a native of H. H., as he had abbreviated the place, that there
was a smaller lake, abounding in fish, farther on through the forest.
It was so strongly fortified, however, by the formidable battalions of
sharp-shooting insects that but few fishermen had ever been able to
lay siege to it.
Rob and I being poison proof decided to try our luck and pitch camp
for a few days on the shores of this hidden treasure. As we had to
send to town by the stage driver for the necessary supplies, we
remained in H. H. the remainder of the day.
We at once paired off in Noah's most approved style as Rob had
outlined. Beth and Ptolemy went up shore, sticks and stones and rocks
being no obstacles to their feet. Rob and I sought the society of the
snakes, while Silvia and Diogenes, mosquito-netted, watched a game of
croquet.
We dined without the pleasure of the society of Ptolemy and Diogenes,
who had been invited to sit at the table with the landlady's
children. I might state, incidentally, that the invitation was never
repeated.
Beth was quite excited over her walk.
"Ptolemy and I," she boasted, "made more of a discovery than Mr.
Rossiter did. We found a haunted house, a perfectly haunted house."
"I am not surprised," declared Silvia. "You couldn't expect any other
kind of a house in such a region."
"Where is it?" I asked, "and what is it haunted by?"
"Insects," suggested Silvia.
"You go around shore about two miles, only it's farther, as you have
to make so many ups and downs over the rocks. Then you leave the shore
and go through a low marshy stretch, sort of a Dismal Swamp, and then
up a hill. After Ptolemy and I climbed to the top, we looked down and
saw, hidden in a clump of lonely looking poplars, a small, rudely
built house. We went down to explore and had hard work making our way
through a thick growth of--everything. We crawled under some tangled
vines and came up on the steps. The house was vacant, although there
were a few old pieces of furniture--a couple of cots, a cook-stove,
table, and chairs.
"On our way home we met a woman who gave us a history of the house. An
old miser lived there long ago. One night he was robbed and murdered,
and his ghost still haunts the place. No one ventures in its vicinity,
and she said most likely we were the first people who had gone there
since the tragedy. She told us of a nearer way to reach it. You take
the road to Windy Creek, and about two miles below here, turn into a
lane and then go through a grove and over a hill."
"You don't really believe the story, that is, the ghost part of it?"
asked Rossiter.
"N--o," allowed Beth. "Still, I'd like to. It makes it interesting.
Ptolemy and I are going down there some night to see if we can find
the ghost."
"You won't see one," I assured her. "Ptolemy's presence would be
sufficient to keep even a ghost in the background."
"Ptolemy's a peach," declared Beth emphatically.
"If he were older, you wouldn't think so," said Rob.
"Why not?" asked Beth in surprise, or seeming surprise.
He smiled enigmatically, and irrelevantly asked her if she wouldn't
really be afraid to go to the haunted house at night with only Ptolemy
for protection.
She assured him she shouldn't be afraid of a ghost if she saw one, and
that she shouldn't be afraid to go alone.
Throughout the evening, which we spent in rowing, walking, and later
at a little impromptu supper, I was interested in observing the
puzzling behavior of Beth and my chum. I had expected that he would
avoid her as much as possible and speak to her only when common
politeness made conversation obligatory, and that she, a born
coquette, would seek to add his scalp to her collection. Instead, to
my surprise, their rôles were reversed. He appeared interested in her
every remark and looked at her often and intently. He was quite
assiduous in his attentions which, strange to say, she discouraged,
not with the deep design of a flirt to increase his ardor, but with a
calm firmness that admitted of no doubt as to her feelings.
"Your sister," he remarked to me as we were walking down to the lake
for a swim just before going to bed, "is a very unusual type."
"Not at all!" I assured him. "Beth is the true feminine type which you
have never taken the trouble to know."
"Oh, come, Lucien! Not feminine, you know. Though she is inconsistent."
I resented the imputation hotly, but he only laughed and said that he
guessed it was true that a man didn't understand the women in his
family as well as an outsider did.
"You think," I said, "just because she says she isn't afraid of
ghosts--"
"Not at all," he denied. "That wasn't the reason, but--I like her
type, though I always supposed I wouldn't. It is a new one to
me--anyway. I didn't think so young a girl as she--"
Our discussion was cut short by the inevitable, ever-present Ptolemy,
who came running up to us, clad in about four inches of swimming
trunks.
"Why aren't you in bed?" I demanded.
"I was in bed, but it was so warm I couldn't sleep, and I went to the
window and saw you coming down here, so I thought I'd come, too."
I repeated Rob's remarks to Silvia when I returned to our room, and
she betrayed Beth's confidences in regard to Rob.
"She says she would like him if it were not for one trait that she
dislikes more than any other in a man and that it was sufficient in
her estimation to counterbalance all his good qualities."
"What can she mean?" I asked bewildered. "I don't see a flaw in Rob,
except for his being a woman-hater, and he surely hasn't betrayed that
fact to her, judging from his manner toward her. I think he is making
an effort to be nice to her on my account, and she doesn't appreciate
it."
"I asked her what the flaw was, and she flushed and said she couldn't
tell me."
"Well, I guess all around it is a good thing we are going off on our
fishing expedition. I don't want my friend turned down by my sister,
and I don't want my friend calling my sister a new type and
unfeminine."