suddenly. "What do you suppose the old place
is worth?"

"I can't say, Chet," answered Mr. Bradley. "Being so far from good roads
and the railroad, I am afraid the land is not worth much."

"But it must be worth something," persisted the boy.

Mr. Bradley smiled faintly.

"For Billie's sake let us hope so. But you must remember, in this state
there are thousands of abandoned farms. Folks simply can't make a living
on them, and so they move away."

"But the buildings must be worth something."

"To live in, yes, but that is all. You can't move an old stone house to
some other spot."

"Why do they call it 'Cherry Corners?'" asked Billie, for she had
been following a little train of thought all her own. "It's a very
queer name."

"Oh, they come by it naturally enough," her mother answered. "It is
surrounded by a grove of cherry trees and is near a crossing of two rocky
roads. So you see the reason for 'Cherry Corners.'"

"Goodness, that sounds as if it were away off in the wilderness!" cried
Billie, adding: "But wouldn't it be awful to have to live in that spooky
old house all alone? Are there any houses near it, Mother?"

"Not one for more than a mile," said Mrs. Bradley. "They are almost as
isolated now as they used to be in the old Indian days."

"Indians!" cried Chet, pricking up his ears again. "Did you say something
about Indians, Mother?"

"Why, I've heard Aunt Beatrice say," answered Mrs. Bradley, beginning
to share in her children's enthusiasm, "that the Powersons who
originally built the house built it especially for the purpose of
resisting Indian attacks. Now that I come to think of it," she added,
her eyes beginning to shine with excitement, "that was the reason for
the winding tunnels and secret rooms. As the last resort, the family
could take refuge in them."

"Oh, boy!" cried Chet, springing to his feet for the second time. "Did
you hear that, did you? Indian raids and--oh, gosh!" Words failed him and
he sank back in his chair with a sigh of joy.

"Isn't it wonderful!" breathed Billie. "At first I was disappointed but
now--Is that all she left, Mother?"

"Isn't that enough?" her father interjected, with a laugh.

"I suppose so, but I thought--"

"Why, yes, that was all," said her mother, adding the next moment,
surprised that she should have forgotten the most important part of all:
"Oh, I forgot to tell you--Aunt Beatrice left you the house with all its
contents."

"Oh!" breathed Bi