mortgage--eh?"

He rubbed his bristly chin dubiously.

"I want to buy the house," Lydia said. "I want to be sure--"

"Have you seen the rooms upstairs?" asked the minister, turning his
back upon his senior deacon.

She shook her head.

"Well, then, why not--"

Wesley Elliot took a step or two toward the winding stair, dimly seen
through the gloom of the hall.

"Hold on, dominie, them stairs ain't safe!" warned the Deacon.
"They'll mebbe want a little shoring up, before-- Say, I wish--"

"I don't care to go up now, really," protested the girl. "It--it's
the location I like and--"

She glanced about the desolate place with a shiver. The air of the
long-closed rooms was chilly, despite the warmth of the June day
outside.

"I'll tell you what," said the deacon briskly. "You come right along
down to the village with me, Miss Orr. It's kind of close in here;
the house is built so tight, there can't no air git in. I tell you,
them walls--"