“Not I! What would I have to fear? Who ever heard of a ghost hurting anybody? Of all the absurd cowardice, I think the fear of ghosts must be the weakest! Why, if the very wickedest old Gryphyn that ever killed and ate his grandmother, was to appear to me and try to bulldoze me, all I would say would be—‘Ah ha, old rooster! Your comb is cut now! Flesh and blood have no longer anything to fear from you! Clear out, or I will throw my prayer-book at your head’—for of course you know I wouldn’t care about hearing what he could tell me of the other world! But, oh dear! there is not the slightest probability of interviewing a spirit, good or evil, now. These commonplace, unimaginative sweepers, and dusters, and moppers, and scrubbers have exorcised them all—unless—— Come with me, Madame Gloria. I will show you a place that they haven’t invaded yet, and if that place is not consecrated or cursed to the use of ghosts, I’ll give them up,” said Philippa, suddenly rising. Gloria, carried away by the impetuosity of her companion, arose and followed her. Philippa led the way down stairs and down the main hall to a side door that opened into a long, dark, narrow passage leading through an ell of the building. At the end of this she opened another door leading down a deep and narrow flight of stairs to a dark cellar. At the foot of these stairs she stopped and said: “Wait. I brought a piece of candle with me and a match. We must have a light before we go a step farther.” And while Gloria stood there, Philippa snapped a match and lighted the end of the tallow candle, which, however, only showed a small ray in the midst of the deep darkness. They stepped down now upon the flagstone floor of the cellar, which seemed quite dry. Groping along with their feeble light, they explored the walls, which were arched and divided into bins and niches—some of them with rusty iron doors—places which made the two girls shudder. In one corner of this place they found a door which, when they opened it, revealed, in the dim light of the candle, a ladder leading down to a subterranean room below the cellar. “Oh, look here!” whispered Philippa. “Look here! In the deepest deep a deeper deep!” “Oh, come away! Come away! Come away directly and shut the door! There is a dreadful air arises from that place!” exclaimed Gloria, shrinking back. “‘Come away,’ indeed! Not much! I am going down these stairs to see what is at the bottom. You can stay here until I come back, but I cannot leave you the candle, you know,” obstinately replied the stubborn girl. In vain Gloria sought to dissuade her from her purpose. She was as stubborn and intractable as a young mule, and she began to go down the ladder. Gloria, seeing her so determined, had no other alternative but to follow her willful guide. A foul air, impregnated with must and mould and dampness, met them. They could scarcely breathe, the candle could scarcely burn in the impure, oppressive atmosphere.