Of course Sylvia promised, but she was puzzled by Flora’s request.

It was decided that Ralph and Philip should ride back to Charleston that afternoon when Uncle Chris drove the little visitors home, and that Flora should stay at the plantation with her mother for a day or two.

Sylvia had enjoyed her visit.  She had even enjoyed seeing the “ghost,” but she was sorry that she could not tell her mother and father of the great adventure.  Nevertheless she was glad when the carriage stopped in front of her own home, and she saw Estralla, smiling and happy in the pink gingham dress, waiting to welcome her.

“Sylvia, I’m coming over to-night.  I’ve got something to tell you,” Grace said, as the two friends stood for a moment at Sylvia’s gate, after they had thanked Uncle Chris, and said good-bye to Sylvia’s brothers.

Grace was so serious that Sylvia wondered what it could be.  “It isn’t that Estralla is going to be sold right away, is it?” she asked anxiously.

“No.  I’ll tell you after supper,” Grace responded and ran on to her own home.

Sylvia’s mother and father were interested to hear all that she had to tell them about the corn-shucking, and of the wonderful cake with its palmetto flag.  She told them about poor Dinkie, and what Philip had said:  that Dinkie should not be sold away from her children, or whipped.

Mr. Fulton seemed greatly pleased with Sylvia’s account of her visit.  He said Philip was a fine boy, and that there were many like him in South Carolina.

They had just finished supper when Grace appeared, and the two little girls went up to Sylvia’s room.

“What is it, Grace?” Sylvia asked eagerly.  “I can’t think what you want to tell me that makes you look so sober.”

Grace looked all about the room and then closed the door, not seeing a little figure crouching in a shadowy corner.

“I wouldn’t want anybody else to hear.  It’s about the ghost,” she whispered.  “I know all about it.  It was Flora herself!  Yes, it was!” she continued quickly.  “When we were in her room this morning I saw a big hat with a long feather on it, hanging on her closet door, and a long blue skirt, one of her mother’s.  They weren’t there yesterday, for the door was open, just as it was to-day.”

“Well, what of that?” asked Sylvia.

“Oh, Sylvia!  Can’t you see?” Grace asked impatiently.  “Flora dressed up in her mother’s things, and then came up the stairs to our room.  She was determined to make us think she had a truly ghost in her house.  Then when you called out, she got frightened and stumbled on the stairs.  You know we heard someone fall and cry out.  Of course it was Flora.  Nobody seems to know how she got hurt.  The minute I saw that plumed hat I knew just the trick she had played.  I knew there wasn’t a ghost,” Grace concluded triumphantly.

Sylvia felt almost disappointed that it had not really been “Lady Caroline.”  She wondered why Flora had wanted to deceive them.