Mr. Kemp stepped to this side and that, looking at the spring from different points of view, gazing through his half-closed hand in a way that he had, and which Elizabeth was learning to imitate.
“Now, let’s go to the summer-house,” said Elizabeth, leading the way to the top of the hill; “it is all fixed over and Grandpa Gil likes to come up here and sit.”
“Well, I say, this is stunning,” remarked Mr. Kemp when they had reached the spot. “Not very paintable, perhaps, but it gives you a mighty good idea of the surrounding country. I say, Elfie, what is that down there?”
Elizabeth looked in the direction he indicated. “Why, that,” she told him, “is where the old farm-house used to be; it was burned down and that is only the foundation. Cousin Tom didn’t rebuild it, because the garage is nearer and has all the room that is needed.”
“I didn’t mean the foundation, although with vines and underbrush growing over it I imagine it is rather picturesque, but what I was looking at was the small building near it; what is that?”
“Why, I don’t know exactly; they don’t use it now. I think it was a sort of stable first and then they used it for the chickens.” She broke off abruptly and gave a little squeal. “Oh, Mr. Titian, maybe we have found it.”
“That is just what I was thinking, Elfie; let’s go and see.”
They lost no time in rushing toward the old weather-beaten building which stood on the side of the hill quite a distance from the main house. A large tree sheltered it on the south side, but on the north and west the view was unobstructed. A little path led from it to the spring. It was rather dilapidated, windows broken and roof leaky. Mr. Kemp went around to see if there might be a door unfastened or a shutter loose, and at last he found a place where they could get in. Elizabeth thought it the greatest fun to be boosted up over the sill of the window, where they made their entrance, and to land on the dusty floor inside. “We are like discoverers,” she said. “It is pretty bad, isn’t it? Such a lot of cobwebs, and you can look up and see daylight right through some of the holes in the roof, and it is rather malodorous from the chickens.”
Mr. Kemp laughed. “You got it, didn’t you, that time. I say, Elfie, it isn’t half so bad as it looks. A few shingles will make the roof all right, I think. I could knock out a place over here, you see, and put in a couple of window-sashes and I would have a good light. There over in that corner I could carry that partition all the way up and make a sort of kitchenette or something of the sort. There seems to be a solid floor over the greater part of it, and—yes, there is a ladder, as I live; I’ll go up and see what it looks like above there. No, don’t you come; you might fall.”
He raised the ladder, ran lightly up, and through the apertures made by the absence of boards Elizabeth could see him above. “Not bad,” he called down to her. “With a little work one could make a fair room up here.”