Anne had stayed with the Caldwells for three days before she spoke to Henry again—he was such an unpleasant boy after all. Lizzy was at least quiet enough not to make a fuss (although she wasn't nearly adventurous enough for Anne's taste), but Henry was another story. Normally whenever Anne was around he would spend his time gloating about a new toy he'd gotten or complain loudly about how much he despised having guests in his house—but over the past couple of days he had hardly spoken at all.
Curiosity was eating at Anne like a bad itch, and as much as she wanted to resist it, she couldn't help but scratch. Privately, Anne was quite proud of herself for even lasting those three days.
"All right them," She turned to Henry, who was looking very hard at the puzzle he had just finished, "what happened?" Henry ignored her. "Oh, come on. You must have some explanation for that awful look on your face."
Henry looked up slowly, "It doesn't concern you, so why don't you just mind your own business?" He was gripping the puzzle box so tightly that the cardboard started to bend. "Just because I have to put up with you, it doesn't give you the right to pry into my private business." Anne smiled—she had him now.
"Oh really? Because if I didn't know better, Henry Caldwell, I'd say you look scared."
Henry paled. "Be quiet."
"What? Did you run into some dusty old ghost?"
"I said drop it, Anne" Henry's voice was getting dangerously quiet and Lizzy had already started to inch away—she wasn't keen on getting caught in the crossfire of their fights. The two were terrible enough apart, but together they were unbearable.
"Come on—out with it! I'm sure it's not that scary—I know I could handle it."
Henry turned to her, "Oh could you now?" Henry was far past his silence now and his lips were curled up into a very terrible sort of grin, "I bet you couldn't handle it. I bet you're all talk and that all that adventure nonsense is just a big sham."
Anne flushed, "Is not!"
"Is too!"
"IS NOT!" Anne was furious now.
"Prove it."
"Fine!" She stood up suddenly, "I will!" Henry just kept on smirking, and she began to feel uneasy about the whole thing—what if there really were ghosts in the house? It was rather old… She looked around nervously.
"Unless of course," Henry said, enjoying himself, "You're scared."
That did it. Anne marched up to Henry and glared at him hard. "Tell me where you went all that time—after you came stumbling back into the room the other day."
"Follow me," Henry stood to meet her gaze, "And I'll show you." The pair turned to leave the room, Henry looking smug as ever and Anne stomping along behind him.
"Wait!" Lizzy emerged from behind her dollhouse, "We're not to leave the nursery! What will Ms. Mooney say when she finds out you're missing?" She looked helplessly from Anne to Henry. But it was no use—they were adamant about going.
"Just stay here, Lizzy," Henry said. But after all of the talk about ghosts, Lizzy wasn't about to be left alone. Besides, she knew that whatever anger Ms. Mooney might have towards the older two for leaving would be taken out on her if the old nanny discovered that they were missing. So, grudgingly, Lizzy shuffled along behind them, wishing very much that they wouldn't see any ghosts, and wishing even harder that Henry and Anne would stop their fighting.
Now you must understand—Henry might have been a selfish boy, and certainly mean-spirited enough to give Anne a good scare, but there was no part of him that actually wished her any real harm. And as they drew closer to the attic stairs, he began to have second thoughts. "Anne," he said cautiously, "Are you quite sure you want to do this? I, erm, well I don't want to have you screaming and running to Ms. Mooney on me."
Anne took this as a horrible insult.
"What?" She stopped in her tracks, nearly causing Lizzy to run into her. "We may not be the best of friends Henry Caldwell, but I am not a tattletale!" She thought, of course that he was referring to the other day when he had been banished from the nursery, "It isn't my fault that you can't keep your temper!"
"Can't keep my—" Henry sputtered angrily, "I'll bet it wasn't your fault—I bet you did it on purpose!"
"What?"
"That's right!" Henry had completely forgotten himself by this point, "I bet you planned it! Adventures indeed—all you like to do is to cause trouble! Especially if it means sending that awful old crone on people who have done absolutely nothing wrong!"
"NOTHING WRONG!" Anne roared indignantly, "YOU WERE SCREAMING LIKE A LUNATIC!"
"WAS NOT!"
"WAS TOO!"
"WAS—" but Henry had to pause. And the children froze in horror as they heard the quick, angry footsteps of Ms. Mooney approaching.
"Oh no!" shrieked Lizzy
"Oh, nice going Henry!" Anne said as she spun around, trying to gauge where the footsteps were coming from, "Now we're all in for it!"
"Quiet you! You were screaming too!"
"Oh we should have never left the nursery," Lizzy moaned miserably.
Henry quickly grabbed Lizzy by the hand and turned to Anne, "C'mon you! You wanted to see the attic? Well now we've got no other choice!" Anne didn't look particularly pleased with this news, but at the moment, anything sounded better than the wrath of her angry aunt. She followed Henry to the smallest sitting room and, amid Lizzy's whimpers, they all three clambered up the old staircase, glancing behind them as they went for fear of pursuit. Then, as soon as they were all up, Henry closed the door quickly behind them and turned on the light.
"Keep quiet Lizzy!" he hissed, and the three fell silent, sliding to the floor in exhaustion, quietly panting after such a panicked run.
"Henry," Anne's voice sounded very small, "What do we do now?" Henry swallowed hard and looked towards the mirror in the far corner. Part of him wanted to insist that there was nothing here anyway, but then, he reasoned, Anne might assume that he was only frightened of the attic.
"Are you feeling very brave, Anne?" He said, quite seriously.
Although the others couldn't see it, Anne was as white as a ghost and already shaking from looking around the dusty and shadowed attic. She felt about as brave as a field mouse.
"Yes." She squeaked. Henry looked at the mirror again, his shoulders sagging. There was nothing else for it.
"Well," he whispered, "then follow me."