"Now, Valerie," said Betty, turning to her chum, "let's get her to tell us some of the stories she knows about the fine old houses, and the people that once lived in them."
"Fine!" cried Valerie, "but where would we find her?"
"She lives in a little old hut, 'round behin' the hill over there!" said Marcus, "an' all yo' has ter do is ter go up dis street, an' yo'll sure spot it, long 'fore yo' reach it, 'cause the top half er dat hut is red, an' the bottom half is whitewash. It sure looks mighty quare!"
"Let's take a walk over there to-morrow, when our lessons are prepared," said Valerie, "but," she added, "I hope we find it."
"Yo' couldn't miss it," said Marcus, "for all yo' has ter do is ter go up dis street, an' turn ter yo' left, den go a piece, an' turn ter yo' right, an' walk 'til yo' come ter a big yaller house, an' dat's 'bout half-way. Nex' yo' cross a field, skip over de place where de brook is in summer an' come ter a piece er wall, stone wall, 'tis, an' it don't seem ter b'long ter no place 'tall, an' de hut is jes' a little ways beyond."
The sound of a bell sent them hurrying toward the house.
"Do you expect to remember all that?" Valerie asked on the way to the class-room.
"If you do you'll be a wonder. I've forgotten it now."
Betty nodded confidently.
"We'll go over there to-morrow," she said.