le, and
that dull, dim, soft yellow-brown light about everything which only
seems reflected from ancient walls. The front portion consisted of two
great sitting-rooms, one of which was empty, while the other had been
arranged for the accommodation of visitors. Neither walls nor
window-sills had been touched with paint for half a century, and they
were sadly in need of attention. The house was the property of an old
miser, who refused to spend a penny on repairs, and every year things
went on from bad to worse. The woodwork of the wide old staircase was
rotting away, most of the doors were off their hinges, and the rain
came through several spots in the roof. Like many another fine
mansion, it had descended from hall to farm-house, and showed now but
faded relics of its former grandeur.

The farmer and his family lived entirely in the back premises, and the
whole of the front was given up to their lodgers.

"I shouldn't like to sleep here alone," said Morvyth, as Miss Lowe
acted cicerone and showed them through the house. "These long, gloomy,
eerie corridors give me the shivers!"

"I felt the same," admitted their friend, "so I persuaded Miss Barton
to join me. She's as mad on the antique as I am, and together we enjoy
ourselves immensely, though we should each feel spooky alone. Our
first business last night was to turn five bats out of our bedroom.
There's an open trap-door in the ceiling of the landing, and a whole
colony of them seem to be established up there; they flit up and down
the stairs at dusk! One has to sacrifice comfort to the picturesque. I
think I begin to have just a glimmer of an understanding why some
people prefer new houses to old!"

Both Miss Lowe and Miss Barton certainly found their romantic
proclivities came into collision with their preconceived ideas of the
fitness of things. Mrs. Marsden, their landlady, was a kind soul who
did her best; but she had all her farm work and a large family of
children to cope with, so it was small wonder that cobwebs hung in the
passages and the dust lay thick and untouched. It is sometimes wiser
not to see behind the scenes in country rooms. Miss Barton had set up
her easel in the great hall, and absolutely revelled in painting the
grey oak and plaster-work, nevertheless she had a tale of woe to
unfold.

"They use the place as a dairy," she explained, "and they keep the
milk in large, uncovered earthenware pots. First I found the cat was
lapping away at i