putting it to some use.

Dick looked about for a sight of some lads of his own age with whom he
might become acquainted and enjoy his enforced visit to Dankville, but
boys seemed a scarce article around The Firs.

He strolled back to the house, and, not seeing his aunt about, and being
desirous of exploring the rather stately mansion, he started on a tour
of it. Through the darkened hall he went until he came to what he
thought would be the parlor. He opened the door, though it creaked on
rusty hinges.

The room was so dark he could see nothing, and, having heard his father
say that there were some choice oil paintings at The Firs, he opened a
window to get light enough to view them. He had a hard task, as it
seemed the sash and shutters had not been moved since they were built,
but finally a stream of light entered the gloomy apartment, with the
horse-hair furniture arranged stiffly against the wall.

Dick caught sight of a large painting and was going closer to examine it
when he heard a shriek in the open doorway.

"Mercy sakes, Richard! Whatever have you done?" he heard his aunt call.

"Why, I just opened a window to let some light in, so I could see the
pictures," he answered.

"Light? In this room? Why, Richard Hamilton! This room hasn't been
opened in years! We never think of letting light in the parlor. The
carpet might fade. Oh, Richard, I am so sorry! If I thought you would
have opened a window I would have locked the door. Shut it and come out
at once! Mercy sakes!"

Much abashed, Dick closed the shutters and window and walked out. His
aunt ran and got a broom, with which she brushed the carpet where he had
stepped, though how she could see any dust in that gloom was more than
the boy could understand.

"Never, never go in there again," cautioned his aunt. "We never open
that room except--for funerals."

"I guess that's all it's good for," thought Dick.

He sat around, very miserable, the remainder of the afternoon, and had
little appetite for supper, which was rather a scant meal; some
preserves, bread and weak tea making up the repast.

"I think I'll take a stroll to the village," remarked the youth, as he
arose from the table.

"Where?" asked his aunt, as if she had not heard aright.

"To the village. I'd like to see what's going on."

"There's nothing going on," replied his uncle. "The village is five
miles from here. Besides, we go to bed early, and I don't allow any one
in my house, v