“Yes, we shall have to change a great many things,” said Mrs. Corliss, who had been moving about the room all by herself. “What do you suppose is in that pretty carved box on the mantel?”
“It’s yours, Mother. Why don’t you open it?” said John eagerly.
Mrs. Corliss lifted the cover and started back with a scream. For out sprang what looked like a real snake, straight into her face.
“Oh! Is it alive?” cried Mary, shuddering.
But John had picked up the Japanese paper snake and was dangling it merrily to reassure his mother. “I’ve seen those before,” he grinned. “The boys had them at school once.”
“Come, come!” frowned Dr. Corliss. “That was really too bad of Aunt Nan. She knew that almost everybody hates snakes, though she didn’t mind them herself. I’ve often seen her put a live one in her pocket and bring it home to look at.”
“Ugh!” shuddered Mrs. Corliss. “I hope they don’t linger about anywhere. I see I shall have to clean the whole house thoroughly from top to bottom. And if I find any more of these jokes—!” Mrs. Corliss nodded her head vigorously, implying bad luck to any snakes that might be playing hide-and-seek in house or garden.
Secretly John thought all this was great fun, and he dashed ahead of the rest of the family on their tour of the house, hoping to find still other proofs of Aunt Nan’s special kind of humor. But to the relief of Mary and her mother the rest of their first exploring expedition was uneventful.
They visited dining-room and kitchen and pantry, and the room that was to be Dr. Corliss’s study. Then they climbed the stairs to the bedroom floor, where there were three pretty little chambers. They took a peep into the attic; but even there, in the crowded shadows and cobwebs, nothing mysterious happened. It was a nice old house where the family felt that they were going to be very happy and contented.
Down the stairs they came once more, to the door of the ell which they had not yet visited. It was a brown wooden door with a glass knob.