“We’ll ‘lay’ the ghost!” laughed Betty. “Seriously, I don’t believe there is anything more than a fisherman’s story to account for it. Still, if you girls are afraid——” “Afraid!” they protested in chorus. “Then we’ll go to Elm Island,” decided Betty, and they did. The camp, near a little dock where the _Gem_ could be tied, was well suited to their needs. “Oh, we’ll have a good time here!” declared Betty as they took possession. “But we must get in plenty of supplies. Let’s go over and call on Mr. Lagg,” and they headed for the mainland in the motor boat. CHAPTER XVIII IN CAMP “Well, well, young ladies, I certainly am glad to see you again! Indeed I am.” “Ladies, ladies, one and all, I’m very glad to have you call!” Thus Mr. Lagg made our friends welcome as they entered his “emporium,” as the sign over the door had it. “What will it be to-day?” he went on. “I’ve prunes and peaches, pies and pills, To feed you well, and cure your ills.” “Thank you, but we haven’t any ills!” cried “Brown Betty,” as her friends were beginning to call her, for certainly she was tanned most becomingly. “However, we do want the lottest lot of things. Where is that list, Mollie?” “You have it.” “No, I gave it to you.” “Grace had it last,” volunteered Amy. “She said she did not want to forget——” “Oh, we know what Grace doesn’t want to forget,” interrupted Mollie with a laugh. “Produce that list, Grace,” and it was forthcoming. “You see we have let our supplies run low,” remarked Betty as she gave her order, “Are you going on a long cruise?” Mr. Lagg, wanted to know. “To sail and sail the bounding main, And then come back to port again? “Of course I know that isn’t very good,” he apologized. “When I make ’em up on the spur of the moment that way I don’t take time to polish ’em off. And of course Rainbow Lake isn’t exactly the bounding main, but it will answer as well.” “Certainly,” agreed Betty, with a laugh. “I think that is all,” she went on, looking at her list. “Oh, I almost forgot, we want some more of your lovely olives—those large ones.” “Yes, those are fine olives,” admitted the store keeper. “I get them from New York. “Olives stuffed, and some with pits, With girls my olives sure make hits.” He chanted this with a bow and a smile. “I am aware,” he said, “I am aware that the foregoing may sound like a baseball game, but such is not my intention. I use hit in the sense of meaning that it is well-liked.” “Too well liked—I mean the olives,” spoke Mollie. “We can’t keep enough on hand. I think we’ll have to buy them by the case after this.” “As Grace does her chocolates,” remarked Betty, with a smile that took all the sarcasm out of the words. “Well,” remarked Grace, drawlingly, “I have noticed that you girls are generally around when I open a fresh box.” “Well hit!” cried Amy. “Don’t let them fuss you, Grace my dear.” “I don’t intend to.”