"Lord, no! Hasn't been lived in since--well, since Lutetia Murray died. And that was--let me see--" Hyde cast a reflective eye upward. "Ten, eleven, twelve--oh, fifteen or twenty, I should say. Yes, all of fifteen years." "Does it still belong in the Murray family?" "Lord bless your soul, no. There hasn't been a Murray around these parts since--well, since Lutetia Murray died." "Who owns it now?" "The Turners. They bought it when it came up for sale after Miss Murray's death." "Well, weren't there any heirs?" "There was a niece--her brother's little girl. They had to sell the place and everything in it. There never _was_ a sale in Quinanog like that. Why, folks say that the mahogany would bring fancy prices in New York nowadays." "Didn't they get as much as they should have?" Lindsay asked idly. "Oh Lord, no! And they found her estate was awful involved, and the debts et up about all the auction brought in." "What became of the little girl?" "Some cousins took her." "Where is she now?" "Never heard tell." "Has anybody ever lived in the Murray place since the family left?" "No, I believe not." "Is it to let?" "Yes, and for sale." "Well, why hasn't it let or sold?" "Oh, I dunno exactly. It's a great big barn of a place. Kinda ramshackle, and of course it's off the main-traveled road. You'd need a flivver, at least, to live there nowadays. And there ain't a single modern improvement in it. No bathroom, nor electric lights, not set tubs, nor any of the things that women like. No garage neither." "Every disability you quote makes it sound all the better to me," Lindsay commented. He meditated a moment. "I'd like to go over and look at it this afternoon. Is there anyone here to drive me?" "Yes, Dick'll take you in the runabout." Hyde appeared to meditate in his turn, and he cocked an inquiring eye in Lindsay's direction. "You wasn't thinking of hiring the place, was you?" Lindsay laughed. "I should say I wasn't. No, I just wanted to look at it." "I was going to say," Hyde went on, "that it's a very pleasant location. City folks always think it's a lovely spot. If you was thinking of hiring it, my brother's the agent." Lindsay laughed again. "Hiring a house is about as far from my plans at present as returning to France." "Well," Hyde commented dryly, "judging from the way the Quinanog boys feel, I guess I know just about how much you want to do that." "How soon can we go to the Murray place?" Lindsay inquired. "Now--as far as Dick's concerned." "By the way," Hyde dropped, as he turned toward the garage, "the Murrays called the place Blue Medders." "Blue Meadows," Lindsay repeated aloud. And to himself, "Blue Meadows." And again, though wordlessly, "Blue Meadows." It was apparent that he liked the sound and the image the sound evoked.