This effect was heightened by the long kitchen extension protruding at the rear, which was connected, through the milk room and woodsheds, to the big barn behind, so that the whole mass of buildings, all weatherworn to a harmonious gray, had quite an imposing appearance. The explorers passed through a room on the right of the hall, which seemed to have been used as a sitting room, and into the dining room behind, which had evidently been the original kitchen. There was a huge chimney here which was not plastered up as it is in many old houses, but gaped wide, a glorious, cavernous opening so vast that it took up almost the entire end of the room, and could accommodate five-foot logs with ease. The hearth, which extended far out into the room, was made of square stone slabs of varying sizes, all of which had been worn smooth by the feet of many generations. “Gee! What a dandy fireplace!” Fitzgerald exclaimed, as he paused before it in admiration. “The late Mr. Hickey certainly had good taste. Can’t you imagine toasting your feet here of a cold winter’s night, with the wind howling around outside and a regular blizzard raging?” “We’ll have to try it after supper,” Dick said. “We can’t scrape up a blizzard for you, Fitz, but I expect it will be cold enough for a fire, all the same.” “You bet your boots,” Buckhart put in. “I’m cold already.” “My goodneth, yeth!” agreed Joblots, shivering in his resplendant hunting suit. “No furnace heat, I thuppoth.” Fitz snickered, and they passed on to the kitchen, which proved to be fitted up with a modern range and all the conveniences. In fact, the whole house was comfortably furnished to the smallest detail, and everything was so clean and neat and attractive that the fellows were highly elated at their good fortune. “It’s too comfortable altogether,” Baxter said, as they congregated in the kitchen, unpacking the supplies they had brought along. “We won’t feel as if we were camping out at all.” “You have my full permission to spread a blanket out in the grass, my child, if this is too rich for your blood,” Fitz remarked as he perched himself on the table and proceeded to slice bacon. “Me for the comforts of home, though, when they’re around. Camping out is all very nice when you’ve got to; but I fail to see the fun in waking up so stiff you can hardly move, with a cold in your head, sand all through your clothes, and covered from head to foot with nasty, itching bites from black flies or mosquitoes.”