“Don’t be silly!” Ronnie laughed. “Even a baby couldn’t get down there.” He peered over the top and looked down the flue. “Besides, the swifts’ nest is still there, and it would be broken if anyone had gone down.”
Just then Bill spied Phil coming down the cobblestone road. “Hey, Ron-nie. Hey, Bill,” Phil called out.
“Don’t let on what we’ve found inside,” Bill warned Ronnie. “It’s our secret—yours and mine. O.K.?”
Ronnie nodded. They went down the path to meet Phil, who had seated himself on a fallen log to wait for them to join him. He had cut himself a walking stick from a wild cherry tree and was busy paring ringlets and designs by stripping off the bark. The live wood showed through, a pale green.
“Thought you’d never get here,” he said without looking up from his work. “How’s the business coming?”
“We haven’t started yet.” Bill turned to Ronnie. “I was thinking last night that first off, we’ve got to have an office to work in, and where we can keep all our stuff.”
“That’s right!” Ronnie agreed.
“How about one of the workers’ cottages?” Phil suggested. “Gramps fixed up a couple of them and they’re still in good shape.”
Ronnie and Bill agreed, and the three set off down the cobbled road, crossed Goose Brook and struck out down the overgrown path that led to the row of workers’ cottages. Only two of them were still in good repair, the two on each end of the row that formerly contained close to a dozen. Of the rest, most had completely fallen to ruin. Only their foundations and chimneys were still standing. A few had walls, but the roofs were caved in and rotting.
The boys chose the one closest to the cobbled road and set to work cleaning it up. While Ronnie and Phil removed the debris that littered the floor, Bill ran home to get a broom and pail and mop.