housekeeper looked hard at Helen for several
moments.

"So you came here expecting hospitality--in your uncle's house--and from
your cousins?" she observed, jerkily. "Well!"

She got up and motioned Helen to take up her bag.

"Come. I have no orders regarding you. I shall give you one of the spare
rooms. You are entitled to that much. No knowing when either Mr.
Starkweather or the young ladies will be at home," she said, grimly.

"I hope you won't put yourself out," observed Helen, politely.

"I am not likely to," returned Mrs. Olstrom. "It is you who will be more
likely---- Well!" she finished, without making her meaning very plain.

This reception, to cap all that had gone before since she had arrived at
the Grand Central Terminal, chilled Helen. The shock of discovering that
her mother's sister was dead--and she and her father had not been informed
of it--was no small one, either. She wished now that she had not come to
the house at all.

"I would better have gone to a hotel until I found out how they felt
toward me," thought the girl from the ranch.

Yet Helen was just. She began to tell herself that neither Mr.
Starkweather nor her cousins were proved guilty of the rudeness of her
reception. The telegram might have gone astray. They might never have
dreamed of her coming on from Sunset Ranch to pay them a visit.

The housekeeper began to warm toward her in manner, at least. She took her
up another flight of stairs and to a very large and handsomely furnished
chamber, although it was at the rear of the house, and right beside the
stairs leading to the servants' quarters. At least, so Mrs. Olstrom said
they were.

"You will not mind, Miss," she said, grimly. "You may hear the sound of
walking in this hall. It is nothing. The foolish maids call it 'the ghost
walk'; but it is only a sound. You're not superstitious; are you?"

"I hope not!" exclaimed Helen.

"Well! I have had to send away one or two girls. The house is very old.
There are some queer stories about it. Well! What is a sound?"

"Very true, ma'am," agreed Helen, rather confused, but bound to be
polite.

"Now, Miss, will you have some supper? Mr. Lawdor can get you some in the
butler's pantry. He has a chafing dish there and often prepares late bites
for his master."

"No, ma'am; I am not hungry," Helen declared. "I had dinner in the dining
car at seven."

"Then I will leave you--unless you should wish something further?" said
the housek