"As I was looking, the ghost moved away toward the window and then I saw
there was but one. I was so scared I couldn't call anybody."
"I believe you," said Bert. "It's awful, isn't it?"
"This is certainly strange," said Mr. Bobbsey, with a grave look on his
face. "What did you do next, Nan."
"You--you won't laugh, papa?"
"No."
"I thought of my umbrella. It was resting against the wall, close to the
bed. I turned over and reached for the umbrella, but it slipped down and
made a terrible noise as it struck the floor. Then I flung the covers
over my head."
"What did you want the umbrella for?" questioned Freddie, in great
wonder. "'Twasn't raining."
"I thought I could--could punch the ghost with it," faltered Nan.
At this Bert could hold in no longer, and he set up a shout of laughter,
which was instantly repressed by Mr. Bobbsey.
"Oh, Nan, I'm sorry I laughed," said her twin brother, when he could
speak. "But the idea of your poking at a ghost with an umbrella!"
"It was more than you tried to do," said Mr. Bobbsey dryly.
"That is so." Bert grew red in the face.
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