century."

"It was your uncle's room. Do you mind sleeping here? It's the easiest
to get ready."

"Not with a fire--and I may have a lamp, I suppose?"

At his question Patsey appeared with an armful of resinous pine, and a
few minutes later, a cheerful blaze was chasing the shadows up the great
brick chimney. When Molly returned with the brandy, Gay was leaning
against the mantelpiece idly burning a bunch of dried cat-tails he had
taken from a blue-and-white china vase.

"It's a gloomy old business, isn't it?" he observed, glancing from the
high canopied bed with its hangings of faded damask to an engraving of
the Marriage of Pocahontas between the dormer-windows. "If there are
ghosts about, I suppose I'd better prepare to face them."

"Only in the west wing, the darkies say, but I think they are bats.
As for those in the haunt's walk, I never believed in them. Patsey is
bringing your brandy. Can I do anything else for you?"

"Only tell me," he burst out, "why in thunder the whole county hates
me?"

She laughed shortly. "I can't tell you--wait and find out."

Here audacity half angered, half paralyzed him.

"What a vixen you are!" he observed presently with grudging respect.