“Yes,” added Nat, his tone following Tom’s in its unmistaken note of regret.  “I was a fool not to listen to Uncle Frank’s knee.”

The joke brought forth a very feeble laugh, but even that was better than the groans Tavia had been indulging in.  Perhaps an hour passed while our friends were trying to “make the best of it,” and then, after putting by the remnants of the lunch for future use, the boys fairly exhausted themselves doing “stunts” calculated to amuse the girls and make them forget the terrors around them.

“Now, I’ll just tell you,” declared Nat.  “There’s a sort of couch under each of those posts in the parlor.  Tavia take one and Dorothy the other, Tom and I will stand guard.  You may as well rest, even if you cannot sleep, for even in the morning it’s going to be heavy traveling.”

At first the girls declared they, too, would stand guard, but when Tom added his reasoning to that of Nat’s and the tired ones realised that if they had to walk through the snow in the morning they surely would have to rest their weary muscles, they finally consented to “stretch out” on the low seat that marked the archway from parlor to parlor.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE GHOST THAT REALLY WALKED

It did seem absurd, in spite of the fact that they were snowbound in a “haunted house.”  The big automobile lamps glared brilliantly from the mantel, and Tom, with Nat, found another place to rest—­on the long, low bench that formed a really artistic seat at the foot of the broad stairway.

“Many a gay fellow has rested here, between the dances, don’t you think?” asked Nat.  “I fancy I hear the other fellow and his girl coming down the stairs at this moment.”  He threw himself back in a mocking attitude, while Tom bowed to the “girl coming down the stairs.”

But the boys were tired; conversation broke into uneven sentences, then words fell into syllables and finally there remained only the punctuation—­a full stop.

Dorothy was dreaming that the men in the boats on the Italian marble mantel were coming to rescue her.  Tavia had a weakness for brilliant nightmares, and she dreamed that the crystal chandeliers were coming—­coming down, to strike her directly in the face.

She screamed, and every one started up.

“What was it?” cried Dorothy, on her feet in an instant.

Tom and Nat jumped up as quickly, Nat with revolver in hand, and Tom grasping the hatchet.

“I certainly saw a light at the end of the hall,” whispered Nat to Tom.  “Don’t alarm the girls—­just watch.”

“What was it?” asked Dorothy again.

“Oh, I was dreaming,” replied Tavia drowsily, “and that heavy old chandelier came right down and hit me in the face.”

“Keep your dreams quiet next time,” said Nat, attempting to laugh.  “You gave us all a start.”

“What time is it?” Dorothy inquired.