# The Outdoor Girls in a Motor Car/Chapter 7
#### CHAPTER VII
##### MR. LAGG'S OFFER

With a broad smile on her face, the maid came back, escorting Mr. Lagg, who, at the sight of the girls, bowed low, and declaimed:
"I'm glad to see you, I hope we'll agree, That you are as happy Now to see me!"
"Good!" cried Betty, clapping her hands until the palms were rosy. "We are indeed glad to see you."
"Of course," added Mollie. "How could you leave your store long enough to run down here, Mr. Lagg?"
"Well, it is running a risk," he answered, as he took a chair Amy set out for him. "But I have important business down here, so I thought I'd call. I worked out that little verse on the way down," he confided to the girls.
​"You are extending your range," remarked Grace, who was languidly eating chocolates. "That is, your poetry is getting more elaborate."
"It is indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Lagg, brightening up on hearing this praise. "I am glad you noticed that. Yes, I am gradually getting it better, and on a higher plane. That is what worried me about leaving my store alone."
"Did you leave it all alone?" asked Betty, for the girls knew he did quite a trade with the summer colonists of Rainbow Lake.
"Practically so," was the answer. "I have a boy I hire occasionally, but he hasn't the least talent in the line of poetry, and I know my customers will miss that. However, they will have to put up with it for a few hours. I am going back as soon as I can.
"Perhaps," he added, cautiously, "I should never have worked up my versifying talent; but, somehow, I just couldn't seem to help it. I started in a modest way, just as I did in my store, and it seemed to grow of itself. Now my customers have come to look for it, and I know if Johnnie—that's the boy I spoke of as being left in charge—I know he'll rhyme the wrong words—that is, if he attempts anything at all, which he is likely to do. And nothing displeases a customer more than to listen to wrong ​rhymes; don't you think so?" and he appealed to the chums.
"Of course," assented Mollie, with a look at the others to ask their opinion as to what Mr. Lagg had in view, and what his object could be in calling.
The storekeeper appeared to be nervous, and ill at ease, and it was evident that he had attired himself with care for the trip.
He was obviously uncomfortable in his "Sunday-go-to-meetin'" suit, and a stiff shirt and a stiffer collar did not add to his ease. But he stood it manfully. Sitting on the edge of the chair he looked from one to the other, twirling his hat.
"How—how is trade?" asked Mollie, feeling that she ought to say something, but scarcely knowing what. She seemed to recall that this was a way to engage a business man in conversation.
"Not what it should be," replied Mr. Lagg, with a smile. He seemed to feel that he was making progress now. At least he was in his own element. "Not what it should be. I miss you girls. When you used to run in now and then for something in my line I did better. You were good customers, and I always shaded the prices all I could, besides reciting all my newest ​poetry as soon as I made it up. It isn't everyone I do that for," he added. "Why, to some customers I never speak more than a line or two in a whole year. But you girls—well, you're different. I miss seeing the Gem tied at my dock. There isn't a chance that you'll go cruising again; is there?" he asked, eagerly.
"Come, sail upon the bright blue lake, You, of my goods a choice may make. My prices you will find quite right, I'm open until eight at night."
"You always did treat us right, Mr. Lagg," laughed Betty, "but I don't believe we'll do any more cruising—at least, not right away. We're going in for land cruising now."
"Land cruising?"
"Yes, Mollie has an auto, and we were just planning a tour when you came in."
"So, you see, unless you could arrange, to have a sort of traveling store, we couldn't patronize you very often," went on Mollie, wondering why Mr. Lagg did not come to the point. He had evidently called with some special object in view, and leaving his establishment during the height of the season would seem to indicate that the object was not a trivial one. "But we'll stop ​in whenever we're near you," Mollie concluded.
"Thank you, Miss Billette. So you are going on an auto cruise; eh?"
"A tour, yes."
"Then that may fit in with what I have called about," said Mr. Lagg, quickly. "Yes, it may be just the very best idea yet. Excuse me a moment while I think," he said, and he closed his eyes. His head nodded two or three times in a satisfied sort of way, and occasionally he murmured to himself. The girls looked at one another, unable to fathom the meaning of this conduct. Then Mr. Lagg whistled and suddenly exclaimed:
"I have it! You can solve this mystery, too!"
"Another mystery?" queried Grace, rather languidly, as she took a more comfortable position on the divan. "We seem to be having a monopoly of them."
"What is it, Mr. Lagg?" asked Mollie.
"Were you much afraid of that ghost on Elm Island?" he replied, by asking another question.
"Not at all!" declared Betty, quickly.
"Especially as it was only—what it was," said Grace, with a laugh.
"Then I've got another one for you to solve," went on the poetical grocer. "It's a haunted house!"
​He beamed on the girls as though he had proposed the most delightful sort of an affair.
"A—a haunted house!" faltered Amy.
"That's it—a regular haunted house—groans, slamming doors—queer lights, and all that sort of thing."
"Where—where is it?" asked Betty.
"In Shadow Valley."
Instinctively the four girls started.
"Why, we—we were near there the other day," said Mollie. "We didn't see any house that appeared to be haunted, though."
"No, and that's just it," went on Mr. Lagg. "You see it's only recently been haunted, and that makes it all the worse."
"Tell us about it," suggested Betty. "Girls, this is getting interesting. We must take this in on our tour."
"Don't!" pleaded Amy, the timid one, shivering in spite of herself.
"You know that old mansion, at the far end of the valley; don't you?" asked Mr. Lagg. "At least, you must have heard about it."
"You mean Kenyon's Folly?" responded Mollie, who began to have a glimmering of what was meant.
"Yes," answered the storekeeper. "Mr. Kenyon, who was once a millionaire, built that ​mansion after ideas of his own. Everyone said Shadow Valley—at least that part of it—was too gloomy and out of the way to be a good place for a mansion like that, and the folks around here said it was foolish. They called it Kenyon's Folly from the start, though he named it Kenyon's Woodland Lodge, or some such fancy name as that."
"And did it turn out as the people said?" asked Amy.
"Yes," answered Mr. Lagg. "From the very first his wife took a dislike to the place. She said it was too gloomy, and in spite of a lot of entertainments and parties—elaborate affairs they were, too—life there was dreary. They had lots of company, but Shadow Valley seemed to cast a gloom over the big mansion.
"Then Mr. Kenyon died, and some said it was partly due to grief over the fact that his wife refused to live in the place. At any rate, he closed it up, and went abroad, I believe, not living long after he started to tour Europe.
"Then there was trouble over his will, his whole estate was thrown into court, and the heirs fought and squabbled over the mansion, as well as over the rest of his possessions. No one could get title to it, and the place fell into neglect."
"Yes, it certainly does look lonesome and ​forlorn around there," said Betty. "I was close to it about a year ago, but I never heard that it was haunted."
"It wasn't until recently," said Mr. Lagg, and that brings me to this part of the story, and that's why I called on you. I might say that I now own that haunted mansion."
"You own it!" cried Grace. All the girls were interested now, whatever they had been before.
"Yes. After years of litigation the courts, last spring, ordered the mansion sold. I saw a chance to get a bargain, and as I had some money put away I bought in the property. I got it cheap, but I purchased it through an agent so that no one, except a very few, know that I own it."
"What are you going to do—live in it?" asked Mollie.
"Ugh! Fancy living in a haunted house!" exclaimed Amy, looking over her shoulder as though she felt a ghostly hand laid on it.
"No, I don't intend to live there," said Mr. Lagg. "I didn't buy it for that. But I thought it would be a good investment, and I had an idea of forming a company, and turning it into a hotel. By making some changes the surroundings could be made less gloomy, and the place would pay.
​"But before I could do that I got an offer from some doctors, who wanted to establish a sort of sanitarium for the treatment of nervous diseases. They saw the mansion, and decided it would be just the thing, being so quiet, and all that."
"I should think it would be," murmured Grace.
"But where does the 'haunt' come in?" Betty wanted to know.
"I'm coming to that," spoke Mr. Lagg, being now too interested to quote a couplet. "Matters were going on well, and I expected to close the deal, and make a pretty penny, when the doctors said they couldn't take the property, as it was haunted, and of course a haunted house, with queer noises in the night, would never do as a home for nervous invalids. I could see that myself."
"But how did they know it was haunted?' asked Mollie.
"It seems that some of them were inspecting the place late one afternoon, a day or so ago," said the storekeeper, "when a shower came up, and they had to stay inside until it was over, which was after dark. It was then they heard the queer groans, and saw strange lights, and felt cold draughts of wind."
​"Bur-r-r-r-r!" shivered Amy. This is getting on my nerves."
"I guess it got on the nerves of the doctors," said Mr. Lagg, ruefully, "for they called off the deal, and said they could not take the house unless I would get rid of the haunt. Of course I laughed, and made an investigation."
"And you didn't find anything?' put in Betty, quickly.
"Excuse me, Miss, but I did," replied Mr. Lagg, quietly.
"You did! What?"
"Just what the doctors said—queer groanings—strange lights—like brimstone, and the same sort of smell—sulphur. I—I didn't stay long, I don't mind admitting that."
For a moment the girls were silent, and theii Mollie spoke.
"Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Lagg," she asked, "that those doctors might be playing a trick on you to get you to part with the property cheap? A haunted house isn't the best sort of real estate, you know; but haunts and ghosts can easily be imitated, and those doctors might be up to some such trick as that."
"I did think of that," went on tHe storekeeper, "and that is why I came to you."
"You came to us!" chorused the girls.
​"Yes. You see, you solved the mystery of the ghost of Elm Island, and I don't see why you can't do the same thing for Kenyon's Folly."
"But that ghost, on the island—was a natural one," said Grace. "And the boys helped us to discover what it was."
"Very well," said Mr. Lagg, calmly. "I've no objection to the boys helping you in this case. In fact, it might be better. But what I want to know is. could you—and would you—dare try to solve the ghostly mystery?"
The girls looked at one another. Amy was shaking her head in the negative. Betty and Mollie seemed interested, for they were born leaders, Betty especially. Grace reached for another chocolate, always a source of inspiration for her.
"Of course I'm not asking you to give up your time and go to a lot of trouble for nothing," resumed Mr. Lagg, quickly. "I am willing to pay you well. So I make you this offer. If you can discover what makes those ghostly sounds and manifestations, and can show me a way to get rid of them, if they are natural, which I am sure they are, why, I'll pay you a good sum. I can afford to, for I can then sell the mansion to the sanitarium doctors. Will you try it?"
"But if those doctors are interested in ​depreciating the value of the property, by making it appear haunted, they would have a good object in preventing us from finding out what causes the queer noises and lights," said Mollie.
"Exactly," agreed Mr. Lagg, "but you girls were smart enough to solve that five hundred dollar mystery, and the mystery on Elm Island, so I have hopes that you can help me out in this. That is why I called. Will you help me?"
"Shall we, girls?" asked Mollie.