She had not been afraid of Cyrus Pritchett, but ’Phemie’s irreverence for the spirits of the old house shocked her.
“All right,” laughed the younger girl. “We’ll cut out the ghosts, then.”
“We most certainly will. If I met a ghost here I’d certainly cut him dead!”
’Phemie went forward boldly and opened the door leading into the big kitchen. It was gloomy there, too, for the shutters kept out most of the light. The girls could see, however, that it was a well-furnished room. They were delighted, too, for this must be their living-room until they could set the house to rights.
“Dust, dust everywhere,” said ’Phemie, making a long mark in it with her finger on the dresser.
“But only dust. We can get cleaned up here all right by evening. Come! unhook the shutters and let in the light of day.”
The younger girl raised one of the small-paned window sashes, unbolted the shutter, and pushed both leaves open. The light streamed in and almost at once Lucas’s head appeared.
“How does it look to ye–eh?” he asked, grinning. “Gee! the hearth’s all cleared and somebody’s had a fire here.”
“It must have been a long time ago,” returned Lyddy, noting the crusted ashes between the andirons.
“Wa-al,” said Lucas, slowly. “I’ll git to work with the axe an’ soon start ye a fire there, B-r-r-r! it’s cold as a dog’s nose in there,” and he disappeared again.