trouble, for the lock was rusty,
turned it. There was an ancient brass latch, and she lifted it and pushed
the door open.

"My! isn't it dark--and musty," the older sister said, hesitating on the
threshold.

"Welcome to the ghosts of Hillcrest," spoke 'Phemie, in a sepulchral voice.

"Oh, don't!" gasped Lyddy.

She had not been afraid of Cyrus Pritchett, but 'Phemie's irreverence for
the spirits of the old house shocked her.

"All right," laughed the younger girl. "We'll cut out the ghosts, then."

"We most certainly _will_. If I met a ghost here I'd certainly cut him
dead!"

'Phemie went forward boldly and opened the door leading into the big
kitchen. It was gloomy there, too, for the shutters kept out most of the
light. The girls could see, however, that it was a well-furnished room.
They were delighted, too, for this must be their living-room until they
could set the house to rights.

"Dust, dust everywhere," said 'Phemie, making a long mark in it with her
finger on the dresser.

"But _only_ dust. We can get cleaned up here all right by evening. Come!
unhook the shutters and let in the light of day."

The younger girl raised one of the small-paned window sashes, unbolted the
shutter, and pushed both leaves open. The light streamed in and almost
at once Lucas's head appeared.

"How does it look to ye--eh?" he asked, grinning. "Gee! the hearth's all
cleared and somebody's had a fire here."

"It must have been a long time ago," returned Lyddy, noting the crusted
ashes between the andirons.

"Wa-al," said Lucas, slowly. "I'll git to work with the axe an' soon start
ye a fire there, B-r-r-r! it's cold as a dog's nose in there," and he
disappeared again.

But the sunlight and air which soon flooded the room through all the
windows quickly gave the long-shut-up kitchen a new atmosphere.

'Phemie already had on a working dress, having changed at the Pritchett
house after her unfortunate ducking; Lyddy soon laid aside her own better
frock, too.

Then they found their bundle of brooms and brushes, and set to work. There
was a pump on the back porch and a well in the yard. During all these
empty years the leather valve of the pump had rotted away; but Lucas
brought them water from the well.

"I kin git the shoemaker in town to cut ye out a new leather," said the
young farmer. "He's got a pattern. An' I can put it in for ye. The pump'll
be a sight handier than the well for you two gals."

"Now, isn't he a