. Barnes' mind. The
girl was not strong. She had come home from her school duties almost
worn out. A trip such as this had been was enough to upset even the most
robust constitution. She was wet and cold. Sleeping in wet clothes was
almost sure to bring on the dreaded pneumonia. If only there might be
something in that house, something dry and warm with which to cover her.
"Emily," said Thankful, in a low tone. "Emily."
The sleeper did not stir. Mrs. Barnes took up the lantern. Its flame was
much less bright than it had been and the wick sputtered. She held the
lantern to her ear and shook it gently. The feeble "swash" that answered
the shake was not reassuring. The oil was almost gone.
Plainly if exploring of those upper rooms was to be done it must be done
at once. With one more glance at the occupant of the sofa Mrs. Barnes,
lantern in hand, tiptoed from the room, through the barren front hall
and up the stairs. The stairs creaked abominably. Each creak echoed like
the crack of doom.
At the top of the stairs was another hall, long and narrow, extending
apparently the whole length of the house. At intervals along this hall
were doors. One after the other Thankful opened them. The first gave
entrance to a closet, with a battered and ancient silk hat and a
pasteboard box on the shelf. The next opened into a large room,
evidently the spare bedroom. It was empty. So was the next and the next
and the next. No furniture of any kind. Thankful's hope of finding
a quilt or a wornout blanket, anything which would do to cover her
sleeping and shivering relative, grew fainter with the opening of each
door.
There were an astonishing number of rooms and closets. Evidently this
had been a big, commodious and comfortable house in its day. But that
day was long past its sunset. Now the bigness only emphasized the
dreariness and desolation. Dampness and spider webs everywhere, cracks
in the ceiling, paper peeling from the walls. And around the gables and
against the dormer-windows of these upper rooms the gale shrieked and
howled and wailed like a drove of banshees.
The room at the very end of the long hall was a large one. It was at
the back of the house and there were windows on two sides of it. It was
empty like the others, and Mrs. Barnes, reluctantly deciding that her
exploration in quest of coverings had been a failure, was about to turn
and retrace her steps to the stairs when she noticed another door.
It was in t
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