When he reached the farm-house Mr. Dameron was sitting on the veranda with Zelda and Olive. After discussing the heat of the city and the lower temperature of the country for a few minutes he went into the house.
“I have some papers to study. I never quite free myself of business. Do so when you are young, Mr. Leighton--you’ll not have an opportunity later on.”
He bowed and walked with his shuffling step across the veranda and into the house. Olive did most of the talking now that the young people were alone. She wished to create as much cheer as possible before disappearing; and she lingered until there was hardly a possibility that any one else would come,--unless it should be Pollock, and Pollock, she said to herself, was a wise young man who knew well enough that two are company and three are not. She rose abruptly.
“Zelda, I haven’t written to mother for a week. I must get busy--as Mr. Leighton’s old college friend says, or I can’t mail my letter to-morrow. Please don’t notice my absence. If you hear a sound of murder inside it will be I--fighting June-bugs.”
It was pleasant on the veranda. The night was one of stars, the moon that had shone upon Leighton’s previous visit having gone the way of old moons. Insects fretted the dark with their dissonances. The air was heavy with the sweetness and languor of a midsummer night. Far away, through the trees, a soft light crept silently; it was steady and strong and seemed to cut a path for itself. There was something weird and unearthly about it, as it lighted here and there some new bit of landscape; but presently a low rumble began to accompany it and explained away its mystery. It was an interurban car’s powerful electric headlight marking a ghostly right of way across farms and through woodlands.
“Not bad, that,” said Leighton when the light had disappeared.
“No. It makes our nights more interesting. We can follow the headlight for miles from our upper windows. It suggests a goblin stealing across the country with a bull’s-eye lantern.”
The talk of ghosts seemed ominous and Leighton changed the subject. She seemed to him more baffling than ever--a part of the night’s mystery.
“I had a brief note from Mr. Merriam to-day. He seems to be taking his Saratoga rather sadly.”