Mrs. Spash seemed to comprehend instantly. "It's the way she died," she explained vaguely, "and how everything was left!" She walked in little swift pattering steps, and with the accustomed air of one who knows her way, through the side door into the addition. "This was Miss Murray's own living-room," she told Lindsay. "She had that little bit of a stairway made, she _said_, so's too many folks couldn't come up to her room at once. Not that that made any difference. Wherever she was, the whole household went." With little nipping steps Mrs. Spash ascended the stairway. Lindsay followed. "Did Miss Murray die in her room?" Lindsay asked. "How did you know this was her room?" Mrs. Spash demanded. "I don't know exactly. I just guessed it," Lindsay answered. "I sleep here myself," he hurriedly threw off. "Yes. She died here. She was all alone when she died. You see--" Mrs. Spash sat down on the one chair and, instantly sensing her mood, Lindsay sat down on the bed. "You see, things hadn't gone very well for Miss Murray the last years of her life. Her books didn't sell-- And she spent money like water. She was allus the most open-hearted, open-handed creature you can imagine. She allus had the house full of company! And then there was the little girl--Cherry--who lived with her. At the end, things were bad. No money coming in. And Miss Murray sick all the time." "You say she was alone when she died," Lindsay gently brought her back to the track. "Yes--except for little Cherry, who slept right through everything--childlike. Cherry had that room." Mrs. Spash jerked an angular thumb back. Lindsay nodded. "Yes, I guessed that--with all the drawings--" "The Weejubs! Mr. Gale drew them pictures for Cherry. He was an artist. He used to paint pictures out in the backyard there. I didn't fancy them very much myself--too dauby. You had to stand way off from them 'fore they'd look like anything _a-tall_. But he used to get as high as five hundred dollars for them. Oh, what excitement there was in this house while he was decorating Cherry's room! And little Cherry chattering like a magpie! Mr. Gale made up a whole long story about the Weejubs on her walls. Lord, I've forgotten half of it; but Cherry could rattle it all off as _fast_. Miss Murray had that door between her room and Cherry's made small on purpose. She said Cherry could come into her room whenever she wanted to, as long as she was a little girl. But when Cherry grew up, she was going to make it hard for her. But she promised when Cherry was sixteen years old she shouldn't have to call her auntie any more--she could call her jess Lutetia. Queer idea, worn't it?" Mrs. Spash's old eyes so narrowed before an oncoming flood of reminiscence that they seemed to retreat to the back of her head, where they diminished to blue sparks. For a moment the room was silent. Then "Let me show you something! You'd oughter know it, seein' it's your house. There's some, though, I wouldn't show it to."