That's neither here nor there," answered Antonia. "What do you think of
the Towers?"

"Oh, it's well enough; it seems to be a very old place."

"Didn't it strike you that the rooms were musty?"

"Well, yes; now that you mention it, I thought they were decidedly
musty."

"It will be impossible," said Antonia, "for you to turn the Towers into
a proper Moresque or Libertyesque house."

"I thought you liked the place; you seemed so delighted with the
briars."

"The briars are well enough, and so is the china; it's the rooms I
complain of; they never can be reduced to high art--your sort of high
art, I mean, Susy. But now, tell me, did you do much measuring?"

"No, I didn't; a dreadful woman came with me; she quite frightened me,
and spoke a lot about the Lorrimers, and a ghost in the tower."

"Well, of course there'd be a ghost in the tower," continued Antonia;
"an old place like that couldn't exist without its ghost."

"I don't believe a bit in ghosts," said Susy. "No sensible people
believe in them; there are no such things. You know that, of course,
Antonia."

Susy looked uncomfortable while she spoke, and Antonia knew well that
she was an arrant coward.

"You don't believe in ghosts either," continued Susy; "do you now,
Tony?"

"Oh, but I do," answered Antonia; "I believe in them profoundly. I have
Shakespeare for my authority on the subject."

"And you really think that--that the Towers is haunted?"

"No doubt whatever on the subject. If you don't want to be convinced
against your will, you must choose a bedroom in the most modern part of
the house, and avoid the old tower, with its funny, quaint little rooms.
Frankly, I am disappointed in the Towers as a place for _you_--the rooms
are not your sort--you want great, lofty, bright, modern rooms. I don't
like that musty smell either; it points to damp somewhere. Then, it is
scarcely likely that the water supply is perfect; those old wells are
full of danger, and you once had typhoid, don't you remember? Your
father will have to spend a lot on the place before he makes it anything
like what your sort of high art requires; and when all is said and done,
you'd be lonely there. You know I'm perfectly frank; you know that well,
don't you?"

"Yes, Tony," answered poor Susy in a most melancholy voice. "Oh, please
don't throw any more sponges at me; I am quite shivering, and your words
make me feel so melancholy. But why should I be lonely at the Towers;
ther