the big living room led to the second story, where four large
bed-chambers were arranged. These had once been plastered and papered,
but the wall-paper had all faded into dull, neutral tints and in one of
the rooms a big patch of plaster had fallen away from the ceiling,
showing the bare lath. Only one of the upstairs rooms had ever been
furnished, and it now contained a corded wooden bedstead, a cheap pine
table and one broken-legged chair. Indeed, the main building, which I
have briefly described, had not been in use for many years. Sometimes,
when Captain Wegg was alive, he would build a log fire in the great
fireplace on a winter's evening and sit before it in silent mood until
far into the night. And once, when his young wife had first occupied the
new house, the big room had acquired a fairly cosy and comfortable
appearance. But it had always been sparsely furnished, and most of the
decadent furniture that now littered it was useless and unlovely.

The big wooden lean-to at the back, and the right wing, were at this
time the only really habitable parts of the mansion. The lean-to had an
entrance from the living room, but Old Hucks and Nora his wife used the
back door entirely. It consisted of a large and cheerful kitchen and two
rooms off it, one used as a store room and the other as a sleeping
chamber for the aged couple.

The right wing was also constructed of cobble-stone, and had formerly
been Captain Wegg's own chamber. After his death his only child, Joe,
then a boy of sixteen, had taken possession of his father's room; but
after a day or two he had suddenly quitted the house where he was born
and plunged into the great outside world--to seek his fortune, it was
said. Decidedly there was no future for the boy here; in the cities
lurks opportunity.