"Well! Mis' Landon, I never see such a thing in all my born days! She slid out here like she was on roller-skates! 'Hester?' she says, smilin', and with that she settled herself for good and all, 'sif she'd been born an' brought up here! She slid to the cupboard, and picked out the tea caddy, and took down a little teapot, and in a jiffy, she'd snatched up the b'ilin' teakettle, and was settin' at that there table, drinkin' her tea! I got her out some cakes, and by then she was a-cuttin' bread an' butter! Never've I seen her like!" "Did she trouble you?" "Land, no, ma'am! She waits on herself, but so quick, you'd think she was a witch!" "Where is she now?" "Well, ma'am, she finished her tea, and then she fair scooted up the back stairs. I heard her dart into one or two rooms, and then she took the little South gable room for hers. I could hear her stepping about, putting her things away, I make no doubt. She looked in here again, a minute, and said, 'I've chosen that little room with the lattice wall paper,' and then she disappeared again. That's all I know about her. No, ma'am, she don't trouble me none, and I don't say I don't sort o' take to her. But she's a queer little piece. She is that." Milly sighed. "Every thing's queer, Hester," she said, broodingly, and then she went back to the hall. Wynne Landon sat there alone. His face was grave, and he sighed deeply as his wife came to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Where's everybody, Wynnsie?" she said cheerily. "Traipsing over the house, hunting clues! Rotten business, Milly." "Why? What do you mean by that?" "Nothing. I hope if that man is going to find the criminal, he'll make short work of it!" "So do I, dear, then we can go home, can't we?" "You bet! Here they are, now,--they seem in good spirits." The crowd came down the stairs and into the great hall, laughing at some quip of Wise's. Ever since the day of the two deaths a sombre gloom had pervaded the whole place, and smiles had been few. The sound of laughter came as a shock to the Landons, but the cheery face of Penny Wise betokened only wholesome good nature, and not flippant heartlessness. "Old Montgomery knew how to build a house," he commented, looking at the finely curving staircase, and its elaborate balusters. "Living rooms nowadays are all very well, but these great entrance halls are finer places to congregate. You spend much of your time here, I'm sure. The worst part is, they're difficult to light properly,--by daylight, I mean. And, you've no electrics here, have you?" "No," replied Landon, "only kerosene and candles. You see, the place has been unoccupied for years." "Haunted houses are apt to be,----" "Reputed haunted houses," corrected the Professor. "There are no others," and Wise grinned. "All reputed haunted houses have nothing to haunt them but their repute. I mean, the story of their ghost is all the ghost they have."