the duty of spokesman now devolved unmistakably upon
Jimbo; and very seriously too, he accepted the task, standing with his
feet firmly planted in the road and his hands in his trousers' pockets.

"You see, Miss Lake," he began gravely, "we know such a lot of Things in
there, that they might not like us to tell you about them. They don't
know you yet. If they did it might be different. But--but--you see, it
isn't."

This was rather crushing to the aspiring educator, and the Colonel's
instructions gained additional point in the light of the boy's
explanation.

"Fiddlesticks!" she laughed, "there's probably nothing at all in there,
except rats and cobwebs. 'Things,' indeed!"

"I knew you wouldn't understand," said Jimbo coolly, with no sign of
being offended. "How could you?" He glanced at his sisters, gaining so
much support from their enigmatical faces that he added, for their
especial benefit, "How could she?"

"The gard'ner said so too," chimed in a younger sister, with a vague
notion that their precious Empty House was being robbed of its glory.

"Yes; but, James, dear, I do understand perfectly," continued Miss Lake
more gently, and wisely ignoring the reference to the authority of the
kitchen-garden. "Only, you see, I cannot really encourage you in such
nonsense----"

"It isn't nonsense," interrupted Jimbo, with heat.

"But, believe me, children, it _is_ nonsense. How do you know that
there's anything inside? You've never been there!"

"You can know perfectly well what's inside a thing without having gone
there," replied Jimbo with scorn. "At least, _we_ can."

Miss Lake changed her tack a little--fatally, as it appeared afterwards.

"I know at any rate," she said with decision, "that there's nothing good
in there. Whatever there may be is bad, thoroughly bad, and not fit for
you to play with."

The other children moved away, but Jimbo stood his ground. They were all
angry, disappointed, sore hurt and offended. But Jimbo suddenly began to
feel something else besides anger and vexation. It was a new point of
view to him that the Empty House might contain bad things as well as
good, or perhaps, only bad things. His imagination seized upon the point
at once and set to work vigorously to develop it. This was his way with
all such things, and he could not prevent it.

"Bad Things?" he repeated, looking up at the governess. "You mean Things
that could hurt?"

"Yes, of course," she said, noting the effect