She and her two sisters, with her brothers John and Hugh, had come to spend a fortnight of their Christmas holidays in this old-fashioned abode, where every corner seemed to have a history, if not a mystery; and Agnes Headley, ever on the look-out to do a little work for her Heavenly Master, found that she could carry out, in her present weird surroundings, a thought she had long had in her mind. "Come here, Florence," she said, holding out her hand to a little cousin, who, like themselves, had come for a visit; "if you are at all nervous, we will got the lamp—only—" Florence disdained to acknowledge herself nervous, and was sure she should not be frightened; so, taking her cousin Minnie's little soft hand, she entered the moonlit room with the rest, wondering what Agnes would have to show them so very particular. "Though this is uncle's haunted room, I must explain to you that we have nothing to do with it for that reason; but, as what I have to show you is kept here, I thought we could not have a better place in which to have our little talk." "But we can't see anything," said Minnie, squeezing Florence's hand very hard. "I wish you would strike a match, Agnes." "All in good time, Minnie. Here, John, light the lantern, and let us see what there is to be seen." John, the eldest brother, though not in the secret, knew from experience that Agnes generally had something pleasant in her little preparations, and took the lantern from her hand to do as she desired. When its fitful gleams shone out in the haunted chamber, the young people looked round curiously, not without a certain creepiness in their hair and a shiver down their backs. The room was not very large, but was gloomy and dark; the corners were unlighted, and the moonlight shining along the floor was almost brighter than the rays of the shaded light in John's hand. At one end some garments hung against the wall, and, as their eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, they could see dimly the shapes of old-fashioned armour, swords, and spears, arranged in set patterns, against the oak panelling. In one corner a knight, with a coat of mail, stood up gaunt and still, his visor down, his hand clasping his sword, his foot advanced, as if ready to step forward to the fight. "I don't like it much, Agnes," whispered Minnie, clinging to her side. "I wish you would not make it so dark." "There is nothing in the world to be afraid of," said her sister, "and, if you will come here between me and Alice, you will feel all right, shall you not? But, if you are afraid, I will take you downstairs again, only I did want you to hear about it, too, Minnie." The little girl was reassured by the loving arms wrapped round her, and by the warm kisses pressed on her flushed cheeks.