"Hum! The paint he says he put on that precious property of mine don't
show as much as you'd expect, but he used enough butter and whitewash
this morning to make up. He's a slick party, that Mr. Badger is, or
I miss my guess. His business arithmetic don't go much further than
addition. Everything in creation added to one makes one and he's the
one. Mr. Chris Badger's got jobs enough, accordin' to his sign. He won't
starve if he don't collect rents for me any more."

The hotel dinner was neither bountiful nor particularly well cooked.
The Holts joined them at table and Winnie S. talked a good deal. He
expressed much joy at the recovery of his lantern.

"But when I see you folks in that house last night," he said, "I thought
to myself, 'Judas priest!' thinks I. 'Them women has got more spunk than
I've got.' Gettin' into a house like that all alone in the dark--Whew!
Judas priest! I wouldn't do it!"

"Why not?" asked Emily.

"Oh, just 'cause I wouldn't, I suppose. Now I don't believe in such
things, of course, but old Laban he did die there. I never heard
nothin', but they tell me--"

"Rubbish!" broke in Mr. Holt, Senior. "'Tain't nothin' but fool yarns,
the whole of it. Take an old house, a hundred year old same as that is,
and shut her up and 'tain't long afore folks do get to pretendin' they
hear things. I never heard nothin'. Have some more pie, Miss Howes? Huh!
There AIN'T no more, is there!"

After dinner Emily retired to her room for a nap. She did so under