went up the steps. She was thrilled with a mysterious sense of adventure
which the younger woman did not share. "I feel like a burglar," she
continued, putting the key into the rusty lock.

"I feel cold," remarked Isabel, shivering in her furs.

At last the wide door swung on its creaking hinges and they went into
the loneliness and misery of an empty house. The dust of ages had
settled upon everything and penetrated every nook and cranny. The floors
groaned dismally, and the scurrying feet of mice echoed through the
walls. Cobwebs draped the windows, where the secret spinners had held
high carnival, undisturbed. An indescribable musty odour almost stifled
them and the chill dampness carried with it a sense of gloom and
foreboding.

"My goodness!" Isabel exclaimed. "Nobody can ever live here again."

"Don't be discouraged," laughed Rose. "Soap, water, sunshine, and fire
can accomplish miracles."

At the end of the hall a black, empty fireplace yawned cavernously.
There was another in the living-room and still another in the library
back of it. Isabel opened the door on the left. "Why, there's another
fireplace in the dining-room," she said. "Do you suppose they have one
in the kitchen, too?"

"Go in and see, if you like."

"I'm afraid to go alone. You come, too."