At such times the sisters talked all the faster--and louder. It was really quite remarkable how much they found to say to each other. They wondered how father was getting along at the hospital, and if Aunt Jane would surely see him every day or two, and write them. Then they exchanged comments upon what they had seen of Bridleburg, and finally fell back upon the Pritchetts as a topic of conversation--and that family seemed an unfailing source of suggestion until finally 'Phemie jumped up, declaring: "What's the use of this, Lyd? Let's go to bed. We're both half scared to death, but we'll be no worse off in bed----And, b-r-r-r! the fire's going down." They banked the fire as Lucas had advised them, put out the lamp, and retired with the candle to the bedroom. The straw mattress rustled as though it were full of mice, when the sisters had said their prayers and climbed into bed. 'Phemie blew out the candle; but she had laid matches near it on the high stand beside her pillow. "I hope there _are_ feather beds in the garret," she murmured, drowsily. "This old straw is _so_ scratchy." "We'll look to-morrow," Lyddy said. "Aunt Jane said we could make use of anything we found here. But, my! it's a big house for only three people." "It is," admitted 'Phemie. "I'd feel a whole lot better if it was full of folks." "I have it!" exclaimed Lyddy, suddenly. "We might take boarders." "Summer boarders?" asked her sister, curiously. "I--I s'pose so." "That's a long way ahead. It's winter yet," and 'Phemie snuggled down into her pillow. "Folks from the city would never want to come to an old house like this--with so few conveniences in it." "_We_ like it; don't we?" demanded Lyddy. "I don't know whether we do yet, or not," replied 'Phemie. "Let's wait and see." 'Phemie was drowsy, yet somehow she couldn't fall asleep. Usually she was the first of the two to do so; but to-night Lyddy's deeper breathing assured the younger sister that she alone was awake in all the great, empty house. And Sairy Pritchett had intimated that Hillcrest was haunted! Now, 'Phemie didn't believe in ghosts--not at all. She would have been very angry had anyone suggested that there was a superstitious strain in her character. Yet, as she lay there beside her sleeping sister she began to hear the strangest sounds. It wasn't the wind; nor was it the low crackling of the fire on the kitchen hearth. She could easily distinguish both of these. Soon, too, she made out the insistent gnawing of a rat behind the mopboard. That long-tailed gentleman seemed determined to get in; but 'Phemie was not afraid of rats. At least, not so long as they kept out of sight. But there were other noises. Once 'Phemie had all but lost herself in sleep when--it seemed--a voice spoke directly in her ear. It said: "_I thought I'd find you here._" 'Phemie started into a sitting posture in the rustling straw bed. She listened hard.