Tess’ train of thought was not to be sidetracked so easily. “I wonder whatever became of Tommy Rooney?” she said. “You don’t really believe that was Tommy you saw the day it rained so hard?” cried Agnes. “Yes, I do. And we know that Tommy stole cherries from Mr. Pease, and milk from Mrs. Adams. Didn’t he, Dot? And then, we saw Mr. Pinkney and that bulldog chasing him.” “He ran into our yard to escape the dog,” said Dot, seriously. “Well,” said Ruth, “if it was Tommy, I wish he had come to the house, so we could have fed him. Mrs. Rooney must be awfully worried about him. It’s been a month since we heard he had run away.” “And he’d been gone a week, then,” added Agnes. “Well,” said Tess, “I guess he hasn’t killed any Indians here in Milton, or we would have heard about it.” “I guess not,” chuckled Agnes. “I always look for him, when I’m on the street,” said Dot. “We’ll look for him to-day,” said Tess, “when we go to see Maria.” Tess and Dot were going over to Meadow Street that afternoon to call on the Maronis and Mrs. Kranz. The condition of the Maronis had greatly improved during these weeks. Not only Joe and Maria, but the whole family had begun to be proud of living “like Americans.” Mrs. Kranz, out of the kindness of her heart, had helped them a great deal. Maria helped the good German lady each forenoon, and was learning to be a careful little housekeeper. “She iss a goot mädchen,” declared the large lady. “Aind’t idt vonderful how soon dese foreigners gets to be respectable, ven dey iss learndt yet?” Tess and Dot went up stairs to make themselves ready for their visit, before luncheon. Upon their departure, Eva Larry and Myra Stetson appeared at the front gate. “Oh, do come in, girls!” shouted Agnes, dropping her sewing. “We will, if you’ll tie up your ghost,” said Eva, laughing. “Hush!” commanded Ruth. “Don’t say such things—not out loud, please.” “Well,” Eva said, as she and Myra joined them on the porch, “I understand you have ransacked that old garret. Did you chase out Mr. Ghost?” “What is that?” demanded Mrs. Treble’s shrill voice in the doorway. “What does that girl mean by ‘ghost’?” “Oh, Mrs. Treble!” cried the teasing Eva. “Haven’t you heard of the famous Garret Ghost of the old Corner House—and you here so long?” “Oh, don’t!” begged Ruth, sotto voce. Mrs. Treble was not to be denied. Something evidently had escaped her curiosity, and she felt cheated of a sensation. “Go on and tell me, girl,” she commanded Eva. Eva, really nothing loath, related the story of the supposed supernatural occupant of the garret. “And it appears on stormy, windy days. At least, that’s when it’s been seen. It comes to the window up there and bows, and flutters its grave clothes—and—and all that.” “How ridiculous!” murmured Ruth. But her face was troubled and Mrs. Treble studied her accusingly.