"Drinks a good deal
and wastes a lot of money, but harmless enough. No, this is a very
sedate party; I'll be home early."
"Well, in that case," said her aunt, "I shall stay here with my
Lizzie and my ouija-board. Lizzie deserves some punishment for the
very cowardly way she behaved this afternoon--and the ouija-board
will furnish it. She's scared to death to touch the thing. I think
she believes it's alive."
"Well, maybe I'll send you a message on it from the country club,"
said Dale lightly. She had paused, half-way up the flight of side
stairs in the alcove, and her aunt noticed how her shoulders drooped,
belying the lightness of her voice. "Oh," she went on, "by the way
--have the afternoon papers come yet? I didn't have time to get
one when I was rushing for the train."
"I don't think so, dear, but I'll ask Lizzie." Miss Cornelia moved
toward a bell push.
"Oh, don't bother; it doesn't matter. Only if they have, would you
ask Lizzie to bring me one when she brings up the lemonade? I want
to read about--about the Bat--he fascinates me."
"There was something else in the paper this morning," said Miss
Cornelia idly. "Oh, yes--the Union Bank--the bank Mr. Fleming,
Senior, was president of has failed. They seem to think the cashier
robbed it. Did you see that, Dale?"
The shoulders of the girl on the staircase straightened suddenly.
Then they drooped again. "Yes--I saw it," she said in a queerly
colorless voice.
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