“I say! Isn’t it great!” shouted John, cutting a caper delightedly. “Aunt Nan must have had that fixed so as to scare away callers. Wasn’t she cute?”
Mary blushed for her brother, and for the reputation of the house. “It wasn’t cute!” she said hastily. “We shall have to get that bell changed. We aren’t like that, really,” she explained to her visitor. “We love to see people. You were very good to come to this inhospitable old house.”
“I wanted to,” said Katy simply, “and Mother thought you’d perhaps all be busy this morning, getting settled. So she sent you over this hot luncheon.” And she held out to Mary the heavy basket.
“Oh, how kind of you!” cried Mary. “Let me tell Mother. She will be so pleased! It is so nice to have our nearest neighbor call on us right away.”
“I can’t stop but a minute this time,” said Katy, “for my own luncheon is waiting on the table. But I’d like to see your mother. I’ll wait here in the hall.”
At the end of the hall facing the front door was an armchair with a back studded with brass nails. Katy sat down in this chair to wait for Mrs. Corliss. Mary ran up the stairs feeling very happy, because already she had found this new friend in the town where she was afraid she was going to be lonesome.
But hardly had she reached the top of the stairs when she heard a funny little cry from the hall below. It was Katy’s voice that called. “Oh!” it cried. “Help! Mary Corliss!”
“What is it?” called Mary, leaning over the banisters to see what the matter was.
And then she saw a queer thing. The chair in which Katy Summers sat was moving rapidly of its own accord straight toward the front door. Katy was too startled to move, and there she sat, grasping the arms of the chair, until it reached the doorsill. When it touched the sill, the chair stopped and gently tilted itself forward, making Katy slide out, whether she would or no.
“Well, I never!” said Katy with a gasp. “If that isn’t the impolitest chair I ever saw!”