“Something that would be for the good of mankind. I’d like to go into social service, but Gran would be horrified, be scared lest I should lower my position in life by washing the faces of dirty little children. I might bring home germs, or some one might see me speaking to one of the lower classes; that would never do. I have thought of teaching, training for some special subject, but it would mean that I might rob one more deserving of a salary. I don’t want to be a secretary, nor do I want to go into business. Those who need to make a living should not be thrust aside by those whose living is assured; that is what destroys the balance. So, there you are, Ellen. What shall I do?” “How do you know but your vocation may be that of home-maker?” returned Ellen laughing. “Bah! I didn’t expect that of you, Ellen. I see no prospect of such a career at present. I am twenty years old, and it is time I was turning my attention to something definite. It is all very well for you to talk, who know exactly what you are going to do.” “What am I going to do?” “Cultivate your musical talents, your lovely voice and all that. Go to the city and study, of course.” “And desert Cousin Rindy? Oh, no, I couldn’t do that. I shall stand by in Marshville as long as she needs me. When she doesn’t, I’ll begin to think of something else.” “But you wouldn’t have to desert her; she could go to the city with you and take a little apartment.” “Do you think we are bloated bond-holders? No, no, Marshville must be my home as long as it is Cousin Rindy’s.” Mabel looked troubled, but had no answer just then, for the haunted house was before them. It was a dingy, ramshackle building, gray and deserted; broken slats flapped in the shutters, doors sagged on their hinges, and one dead limb of a scraggy tree scraped the moss-grown roof at every gust of wind. The two girls, however, did not hesitate to approach by way of a grass-grown walk. “It does look the character,” observed Mabel as they paused on the sunken door-step, “yet it must have been rather a nice old place in its day. Shall we go in?” “Why not? The hants won’t be waiting for us outside.” “They won’t be inside either, unless I miss my guess.” “That’s what we came ‘for to see.’” The sagging front door did not yield to their efforts to open it. “Probably is nailed up,” suggested Mabel. “Let’s go around to the back.” This they did, and found an entrance through a low door, which led into a shed, which, in turn, opened into a large kitchen where a battered stove and some broken chairs stood. “It’s evident that no one has lived here for a long time,” remarked Mabel, looking around. “No one but spiders,” returned Ellen, looking up at the cobwebs which draped the corners of the room. “Let’s go on, Mabel.” They went from room to room, finding only a few bits of old furniture, and hearing only the tap-tap of the gaunt branch upon the roof, the creak of broken shutters, and the whir of wings in the chimney.