a stove and a chair, such as it is. Whoever lived here last
didn't take away all their furniture. Let's go into the front rooms."

The first room they entered was evidently the dining-room. It was quite
bare of furniture. The next, however, that which Emily had entered
by the window, contained another stove, a ramshackle what-not, and a
broken-down, ragged sofa.

"Oh!" gasped Miss Howes, pointing to the sofa, "see! see! This ISN'T an
empty house. Suppose--Oh, SUPPOSE there were people living here! What
would they say to us?"

For a moment Thankful was staggered. Then her common-sense came to her
rescue.

"Nonsense!" she said, firmly. "A house with folks livin' in it has
somethin' in the dinin'-room besides dust. Anyhow, it's easy enough to
settle that question. Where's that door lead to?"

She marched across the floor and threw open the door to which she had
pointed.

"Humph!" she sniffed. "Best front parlor. The whole shebang smells shut
up and musty enough, but there's somethin' about a best parlor smell
that would give it away any time. Phew! I can almost smell wax wreaths
and hair-cloth, even though they have been took away. No, this is an
empty house all right, but I'll make good and sure for your sake, Emily.
Ain't there any stairs to this old rattle-trap? Oh, yes, here's the
front hall. Hello! Hello, up there! Hi-i!"

She was shouting up the old-fashioned staircase. Her voice echoed above
with the unmistakable echo of empty rooms. Only that echo and the howl
of the wind and roar of rain answered her.

She came back to the apartment where she had left her cousin.

"It's all right, Emily," she said. "We're the only passengers aboard the
derelict. Now let's see if we can't be more comf'table. You set down on
that sofa and rest. I've got an idea in my head."

The idea evidently involved an examination of the stove, for she opened
its rusty door and peered inside. Then, without waiting to answer her
companion's questions, she hurried out into the kitchen, returning with
an armful of shavings and a few sticks of split pine.

"I noticed that woodbox in the kitchen when I fust come in," she said.
"And 'twa'n't quite empty neither, though that's more or less of a
miracle. Matches? Oh, yes, indeed! I never travel without 'em. I've been
so used to lookin' out for myself and other folks that I'm a reg'lar man
in some ways. There! now let's see if the draft is rusted up as much as
the stove."

It was not, appa