“Well, I’m glad things happen,” quoth Dot, gravely. “Suppose nothing ever _did_ happen to us? We just might as well be asleep all the time.” First of all, with the mystery of Uncle Peter’s will cleared away, and the status of Mrs. Treble and Lillie decided, Ruth went at the mystery which had frightened them so in the garret. Even Agnes became brave enough on that particular Monday to go “ghost hunting.” They clambered to the garret and examined the window at which they thought they had seen the flapping, jumping figure in the storm. There was positively nothing hanging near the window to suggest such a spectral form as the girls had seen from the parade ground. “And this is the window,” said Ruth, thoughtfully. “To the right of the chimney——Oh! goodness me, what a foolish mistake!” “What’s the matter now?” asked the nervous Agnes, who did not dare approach very near the window. “Why, it wasn’t this window at all,” Ruth said. “Don’t you see? It was to the right of the chimney _from the outside_! So it is on the left of the chimney up here. It is the other window.” She marched around the big bulge of the chimney. Agnes held to her sleeve. “I don’t care,” she said, faintly. “It was a ghost just the same——” There was another window just like the one they had formerly looked at. Only, above the window frame was a narrow shelf on which lay a big, torn, home-made kite—the cloth it was covered with yellowed with age, and the string still fastened to it. In cleaning the garret, this kite had been so high up that none of them had lifted it down. Indeed, the string was fastened to a nail driven into a rafter, above. Even now there was a draught of air sucking in around the loose window frame, and the kite rustled and wabbled on its perch. Ruth ran forward and knocked it off the shelf. “Oh, oh!” shrieked Agnes. The kite dangled and jumped right before the window in such a manner that it must have looked positively weird from the outside. It was more than half as tall as a man and its crazy motions might well be taken for a human figure, from a distance. Suddenly the boisterous wind seized it again and jerked it back to its perch on the shelf. There it lay quivering, until the next gust of wind should make it perform its ghostly dance before the garret casement. “Oh, isn’t that great!” gasped Agnes. “And it must have been there for years and years—ever since Uncle Peter was a boy, perhaps. Now! what do you suppose Eva Larry will say?” “And other people who have been afraid to come to the old Corner House?” laughed Ruth. “Oh, I know! we’ll give a ghost party up here in the garret.” “Ruth!” screamed Agnes in delight. “That will be just scrumptious!” “We shall celebrate the laying of the ghost. No! don’t touch it, Agnes. We’ll show the girls when they come just what made all the trouble.”