“I would better have gone to a hotel until I found out how they felt toward me,” thought the girl from the ranch.
Yet Helen was just. She began to tell herself that neither Mr. Starkweather nor her cousins were proved guilty of the rudeness of her reception. The telegram might have gone astray. They might never have dreamed of her coming on from Sunset Ranch to pay them a visit.
The housekeeper began to warm toward her in manner, at least. She took her up another flight of stairs and to a very large and handsomely furnished chamber, although it was at the rear of the house, and right beside the stairs leading to the servants’ quarters. At least, so Mrs. Olstrom said they were.
“You will not mind, Miss,” she said, grimly. “You may hear the sound of walking in this hall. It is nothing. The foolish maids call it ‘the ghost walk’; but it is only a sound. You’re not superstitious; are you?”
“I hope not!” exclaimed Helen.
“Well! I have had to send away one or two girls. The house is very old. There are some queer stories about it. Well! What is a sound?”
“Very true, ma’am,” agreed Helen, rather confused, but bound to be polite.
“Now, Miss, will you have some supper? Mr. Lawdor can get you some in the butler’s pantry. He has a chafing dish there and often prepares late bites for his master.”
“No, ma’am; I am not hungry,” Helen declared. “I had dinner in the dining car at seven.”
“Then I will leave you—unless you should wish something further?” said the housekeeper.