"Doubtless, dear Clara, you may play at work just as much as you please; but heaven forbid you should ever have to work at work!" replied Mrs. Rocke as she placed the coffee pot and the dish of broiled chicken on the table.
"Why, mamma, I do not think that is a good prayer at all! That is a wicked, proud prayer, Mrs. Marah Rocke! Why shouldn't your daughter really toil as well as other people's daughters, I'd like to be informed?" said Clara, mockingly, as they both took their seats at the table.
"I think, dear Clara, that you must have contracted some of your eccentric little friend Capitola's ways, from putting on her habit! I never before saw you in such gay spirits!" said Mrs. Rocke, as she poured out the coffee.
"Oh, mamma; it is but the glad rebound of the freed bird! I am so glad to have escaped from that dark prison of the Hidden House and to be here with you. But tell me, mamma, is my old home occupied?"
"No, my dear; no tenant has been found for it. The property is in the hands of an agent to let, but the house remains quite vacant and deserted."
"Why is that?" asked Clara.
"Why, my love, for the strangest reason! The foolish country people say that since the doctor's death the place has been haunted!"
"Haunted!"
"Yes, my dear, so the foolish people say, and they get wiser ones to believe them."
"What exactly do they say? I hope—I hope they do not trifle with my dear father's honored name and memory?"