, as there seemed nothing else to do, the others agreed.

They filed solemnly down the walk and across the street,--Bess with a
roll of green cambric under her arm,--and nobody uttered a word till a
secluded spot behind Mrs. Ford's syringa bushes was reached, where,
through an opening in the division fence, they could look out
unobserved upon the adjoining house.

"The side windows are open!" Louise announced in a tragic whisper.

"Didn't I tell you so?" replied Ikey with mournful triumph.

It was a small house with a pointed roof, and it stood in the midst of
an old-fashioned garden, where for years and years lilacs and
snowballs, peonies and roses, pinks and sweet-william, and dozens of
other flowers, had bloomed happily in their season, without any
trouble to anybody. In the background sunflowers and hollyhocks grew,
and on either side of the front gate two stout little cedars stood
like sentinels on guard. The street upon which this gate opened was
wide and shady, and the bustle and din of the city had not yet invaded
its quiet.

Though in reality a red house grown somewhat rusty, it was called the
"Brown house," because as far back as any one in the neighborhood
could remember it had been occupied by an old lady of that name. For
years before she died she was bed-ridden, and to the children there
was something mysterious about this person who was never seen, but on
whose account they were cautioned not to be noisy at their play. After
her death the house was left closed and unoccupied, but hardly more
silent than before. An air of mystery still hung about the place; the
children when they passed peeped in at the flowers alone in their
glory, and spoke softly as though even yet their owner might be
disturbed.

This was in the early spring; as the summer wore on this garden grew
more and more irresistible. Other playgrounds lost their charm to the
eyes that looked in at the long waving grass and the pleasant shady
places under the apple trees.

"Let's play Robin Hood," Bess proposed one morning as they sat in a
row on the fence.

Carl and Louise received the idea with enthusiasm, and Ikey listened
in silent admiration as the details of the fascinating game were
unfolded.

The Hazeltine children had from their babyhood been in the habit of
making plays of their favorite stories, but it seemed to Ikey
immensely clever; so while the others argued over who should take this
part and who that, he joyfully accep