just would! Why, it's an _adventure_, Cynthia, like the kind we've
always longed for. You know we've always said we'd love to have some
adventures, above everything else. And we _never_ have, and now here's
one right under our noses!" Joyce was almost tearful in her earnestness
to convince the doubting Cynthia. And then Cynthia yielded, as she
always did, to Joy's entreaties.

"Very well. It is an adventure, I suppose. But why not wait till some
bright, sunny day? It'll be horridly dark and gloomy in there this
afternoon."

"Nonsense!" cried Joyce, who never could bear to wait an instant in
carrying out some cherished plan. "Run back to your house, Cynthia, and
smuggle out a candle and a box of matches. And _don't_ let any one see
what you take!" But this Cynthia flatly refused to do, urging that she
would certainly be discovered and held up for instant explanation by the
lynx-eyed Bridget who guarded the kitchen.

"Very well, then I'll have to get them from mine, I suppose. Anne never
asks what I'm doing," said Joyce, resignedly. "You stay here and wait!"
She sped away toward her own house, but was soon back, matches and
candle under her sweater, her hands full of fresh cookies.

"We'll eat these when we're inside. Here, stuff them into your pockets!
And help me break these other boards away. My! but they're rotten!"
Cynthia helped, secretly very reluctant and fearful of consequences, and
they soon had the little window free of obstructions. Joyce poked in her
head and peered about.

"It's as dark as a pocket, but I see two things like balls of
fire,--that's Goliath up on a beam, I suppose. It isn't far to the
ground. Here goes!" She slipped in, feet first, let herself down, hung
on to the sill a moment, then disappeared from view.

"Oh, Joyce!" gasped Cynthia, sticking her head through the opening into
the dark, "where _are_ you?"

"Right here!" laughed Joyce from below. "Trying to light the candle.
Come along! The stones of the wall are like regular steps, you can put
your feet on 'em!"

"Oh, but the _mice_, and the _spiders_, and--and all sorts of things!"
groaned Cynthia. "I'm afraid of them!"

"Nonsense! _they_ can't hurt you!" replied Joyce, unsympathetically. "If
you don't come soon, I'm going on. I'm so impatient to see things, I
can't wait. You'd better hurry up, if you're coming."

"But it isn't _right_! It's trespassing!" cried Cynthia, making her last
stand. Joyce scorned to argue further along