The dust of ages had
settled upon everything and penetrated every nook and cranny. The floors
groaned dismally, and the scurrying feet of mice echoed through the
walls. Cobwebs draped the windows, where the secret spinners had held
high carnival, undisturbed. An indescribable musty odour almost stifled
them and the chill dampness carried with it a sense of gloom and
foreboding.
"My goodness!" Isabel exclaimed. "Nobody can ever live here again."
"Don't be discouraged," laughed Rose. "Soap, water, sunshine, and fire
can accomplish miracles."
At the end of the hall a black, empty fireplace yawned cavernously.
There was another in the living-room and still another in the library
back of it. Isabel opened the door on the left. "Why, there's another
fireplace in the dining-room," she said. "Do you suppose they have one
in the kitchen, too?"
"Go in and see, if you like."
"I'm afraid to go alone. You come, too."
There was no fireplace in the kitchen, but the rusty range was sadly in
need of repair.
"I'm going down cellar," Rose said. "Are you coming?"
"I should say not.
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