Carrying their "mistletoe," the girls went back to their parked car. As they were pa.s.sing the Hall, they noticed the front door was closed as they had left it. There were no footprints in the snow other than those they themselves had made.

"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Arden as they were at the edge of the sagging old front porch.

"What?" asked Sim.

"Didn't you hear a noise?"

"Where?"

They stood still and listened.

There was no doubt of it. Echoing footsteps were coming from the old mansion. Faint but unmistakable. They floated out of one of the upper windows, the frame of which had been torn away by the wreckers.

"Someone is in there!" whispered Sim.

"Well, they can stay there for all I'll ever do to get them out!" gasped Arden. "Come on!"

They ran back to the car, not pausing to listen any further.

Tossing their branches into the rumble seat, the two girls climbed into the roadster. Sim's trembling foot pressed the starter switch.

"Oh, I'm so glad it went off with a bang like that," she murmured as the motor chugged into service. Steering rather wildly, Sim shot up the hill and out upon the main road and away from Jockey Hollow.

"What do you think it was?" asked Arden when they had their hearts and breaths under control.

"Haven't the least idea."

"We must tell Harry."

"Of course. He may be able to figure out how noises can come from an old house when there isn't a single mark in the snow to show that anyone has entered."

"The scream happened that same way; no one went in, but the scream came out, he said."

"Oh, it's all so mysterious!" sighed Sim. "Shall we ever be able to solve it? Seems to me it gets worse."

"I hope we can solve it," said her companion solemnly.

They created quite a sensation when they reached Sim's house, not only with the "mistletoe," over which Dot went into wild raptures, but with their story of Viney Tucker and the strange noises.

"What a queer old woman," said Dorothy. "I wouldn't want to meet her alone in the dark."

"Oh, I guess she's just a poor old crank whose troubles have gotten the best of her," said Arden. "I feel sorry for her."

"She must be a trial to Granny Howe," suggested Terry, who seemed much improved.

"Granny isn't the sort that gives way to trials," said Sim. "Oh, it will be so wonderful if we can help her!"

"Leave it to Harry," said Arden. "And, by the way, don't you think we had better tell him the latest happening?"

"Of course," said Dorothy quickly. "Shall I telephone him?"

"Why-er-yes," said Sim slowly, with a quick look at Arden and Terry.

"I'll tell him to come over to dinner, shall I?" Her eyes were shining.

"Yes," said Sim, smiling a little. "Harry is always welcome."

"And if he can make anything out of this latest development," said Arden, "he's a wonder."

"I think he's quite wonderful anyway," said Terry, snuggling a little deeper down in the bed. "Wasn't he grand when he let us give him up and collect the reward?"

"Them was the happy days!" laughed Arden.

"I'm going to phone," called Dot from the hall.

CHAPTER XXV The Christmas Party

Harry Pangborn came over to dinner and to spend the evening. It was a most delightful meal, for Moselle and Althea had done their best, which was very good indeed. But it was the talk, the banter and laughter that lent spice to the food. Young folks are inimitable at that sort of thing.

"It certainly is mystifying," Harry had to admit when he was told, more in detail, what Dot had sketched to him over the telephone about the "mistletoe" experience of Sim and Arden. "Very strange. You say there was no more sign of other footprints than your own?"

"Not a sign," declared Sim.

"Could you gather why Viney Tucker was in the old smokehouse?"

"Only that it was a queer whim," said Arden, "and she is queer."

"Yes, such a character as hers would be whimmy." He lighted a cigarette.

Dinner was almost over.

"Is this mistletoe?" asked Dot, bringing out a branch from those her chums had gathered. "You might know, being a bird man."

"I should think one would need to be a ladies' man to judge mistletoe,"

said Mr. Pangborn, with a laugh and a glance at each of the girls in turn. Terry was downstairs for the first time since her accident.

"Not bad! Not half bad!" laughed Arden. "But do you confirm Viney's denial? Is it or is it not-mistletoe?"

"No, it isn't mistletoe," he said after an examination. "But I suppose it will answer the same purpose. Where are you going to hang it? I should like to know in advance."

"_Wouldn't_ you like to know?" mocked Dorothy.

"I must take a piece with me and put it in Granny Howe's hair the night of the Christmas party," said Harry, handing back to Dot the plant she had given him. "I shall claim the privilege on the eve of the holiday."

"Like this?" Dot challenged with mischief in her eyes as she thrust the clump of white berries into her own blonde hair and then ran laughing from the room.