“Hush!” exclaimed Betty. A noise in the woods made them all jump. Then they laughed, as a bird flew out. “Our nerves are not what they should be,” said Betty. “We must calm down. I wonder did we get any pickles?” “I saw him put some in,” spoke Grace. “Then let’s have supper, and we’ll go out for a ride on the lake afterward,” suggested Betty. “Maybe the ghost will carry off our camp,” remarked Amy. “Don’t you dare let Aunt Kate hear you say that or she’ll run away!” cried Betty. “Come on, everyone help get supper, and we’ll be through early,” and, gaily humming she began to set the table that stood under a canvas shelter in front of the big tent. CHAPTER XIX A QUEER DISTURBANCE “Have we blankets enough?” “It’s sure to be cool before morning.” “We can burn the oil stove turned down love—that will make the tent warm.” “Oh, but it makes it so close and—er—smelly.” They all laughed at that. Betty and her chums were preparing to spend their first night in camp on Elm Island, in the tent. They had had supper—eating with fine appetites—and after a little run about the lake had tied up at the small dock near their tent. “A lantern would be a good thing to burn,” said Aunt Kate. “That will give some warmth, too.” “And we can see better, if—if anything comes!” exclaimed Amy, evidently with an effort. “Anything—what do you mean?” demanded Mollie, as she combed out her long hair, preparatory to braiding it. “Well, I mean—er—_anything_!” and again Amy faltered. “Oh, girls she means—the ghost!” exclaimed Betty, with a laugh. “Why not say it?” “Don’t!” pleaded Grace. “Now look here,” went on practical Betty. “There’s no use evading this matter. There’s no such thing as a ghost, of that we are certain, and yet if we shy at mentioning it all the while it will only make us more nervous.” “The idea! I’m not nervous a bit,” declared Mollie. “Well, then,” resumed Betty, “there’s no use in being afraid to use the word, as Amy seemed to be. So talk ghost all you like—you can’t scare me. I’m so tired I know I’ll sleep soundly, and I hope the rest of you will. Only, for goodness sakes, don’t be talking in weird whispers. That is far worse than all the ghosts in creation.” “That’s what I say!” exclaimed Aunt Kate, who was an old-fashioned, motherly soul. “If the ghost comes I’m going to talk to it, and ask how things are—er—on the other side. Girls, it’s a great privilege to have a ghostly friend. If the man who owns this island knew what was good for him he’d advertise the fact that it was haunted. If Mr. Lagg were here I’d get him to make up a poem about the ghost. That would scare it off, if anything could.” “That’s the way to talk!” cried Betty, cheerfully. “And now for a good night’s rest. Bur—r—r—r! It _is_ cold!” and she shivered.