ited all strangers, as well as those who roofed therein, to "eat,
drink and be merry," and otherwise.

"We must imagine ourselves a jolly hunting party," said Dorothy, "just
brought in from a sudden storm. The young lord has invited us, of course."

"An awful stretch," remarked Nat. "I would not be particular about the
lord's age if he would only make good just about now."

"And are we really here--for--the night?" gasped Tavia, swallowing a
morsel of the sandwich Nat handed her.

"Oh, we may get out," answered Tom, none too hopefully. "But if we don't
we must make the best of it. It's too bad for you girls, though."

"Yes," added Nat, his tone following Tom's in its unmistaken note of
regret. "I was a fool not to listen to Uncle Frank's knee."

The joke brought forth a very feeble laugh, but even that was better than
the groans Tavia had been indulging in. Perhaps an hour passed while our
friends were trying to "make the best of it," and then, after putting by
the remnants of the lunch for future use, the boys fairly exhausted
themselves doing "stunts" calculated to amuse the girls and make them
forget the terrors around them.

"Now, I'll just tell you," declared Nat. "There's a sort of couch under
each of those posts in the parlor. Tavia take one and Dorothy the other,
Tom and I will stand guard. You may as well rest, even if you cannot
sleep, for even in the morning it's going to be heavy traveling."

At first the girls declared they, too, would stand guard, but when Tom
added his reasoning to that of Nat's and the tired ones realised that if
they had to walk through the snow in the morning they surely would have
to rest their weary muscles, they finally consented to "stretch out" on
the low seat that marked the archway from parlor to parlor.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE GHOST THAT REALLY WALKED

It did seem absurd, in spite of the fact that they were snowbound in a
"haunted house." The big automobile lamps glared brilliantly from the
mantel, and Tom, with Nat, found another place to rest--on the long, low
bench that formed a really artistic seat at the foot of the broad
stairway.

"Many a gay fellow has rested here, between the dances, don't you think?"
asked Nat. "I fancy I hear the other fellow and his girl coming down the
stairs at this moment." He threw himself back in a mocking attitude, while
Tom bowed to the "girl coming down the stairs."

But the boys were tired; conversation broke into uneven s