ay and night. He lost his appetite. He
could not sleep. So he went off into the woods alone, to fish and hunt
a while. But one night as he sat in his tent, he heard a faint,
far-off whisper of music,--Glory's voice. It came nearer and nearer,
grew louder and louder, until it crashed in his ears like the clamor of
worlds banging into stars, as Precious had said. And then he felt a
tender caressing finger on his eyes, and soft warm arms encircled his
neck, and soft red lips pressed upon his. Closer drew the encircling
arms, more breathlessly the red lips pressed his. He struggled for
breath, and fought to tear away the dimpled arms. The music of Glory's
voice rose into unspeakable tumult, the warm pressure of Precious' arms
rendered him powerless. He fell insensible, and two days later they
found him,--dead."

There was a brief eloquent silence when Nevius finished his story. The
girls shivered.

"A true story?" queried David, smiling.

"A true story," said Nevius decidedly.

"Um-hum. Lover was alone in the woods, wasn't he? How did his friends
find out about those midnight spirits that came and killed him?"

The girls brightened. "Yes, of course," chirped Carol. "How did
folks find out?'

"Say, be reasonable," begged Nevius. "Spoiling another good story. I
say it is a true tale, and I ought to know. I," he shouted
triumphantly, "I was Lover."

Hooting laughter greeted him.

"But just the same," contended Barrows, "regardless of the feeble
fabrications of senile minds, there are ghosts none the less. The
night before we got word of my father's death, my sister woke up in the
night and saw a white shadow in her window,--and a voice,--father's
voice,--said, 'Stay with me, Flossie; I don't want to be alone.' She
told about it at breakfast, and said it was just five minutes to two
o'clock. And an hour later we got a message that father had died at
two that night, a thousand miles away."

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly."

"I knew a woman in Chicago," said Miss Landbury, "and she said the
night before her mother died she lay down on the cot to rest, and a
white shadow came and hovered over the bed, and she saw in it, like a
dream, all the details of her mother's death just as it happened the
very next day. She swore it was true."

"Don't talk any more about white shadows," said Carol. "They make me
nervous."

"Wouldn't it be ghastly to wake up alone in a little wind-blown canvas
tent in