“My dear young lady, would you let me try it a little while before deciding?” inquired the old housekeeper.
“How do you mean?” asked Gloria.
“Let me try if I can stay here. If nothing happens, such as happened on that horrible night, why, I might stay and spend the rest of my life here; but if anything of that sort should come again, if it shouldn’t frighten me to death on the spot, it would, at least, scare me away from the house forever.”
“Such a night of horror is not likely to return in our lifetime. I accept your terms, Mrs. Brent, and I am very glad to do so. I should dislike to lose you.”
“Thanky, honey; so should I,” replied the old woman, rather obscurely. Then: “When would you like me to come in, ma’am?” she inquired.
“As soon as you possibly can.”
“Well, I think I can come to-day. As you were so kind as to say that you would give me a room next to your own, I shall not need to move the furniture from the lodge-house, as these rooms are already furnished. Now, honey, I’ll go down and see to preparing the dinner.”
“Thanks, and—please send your niece up to me, Mrs. Brent,” said Gloria, who still shrank from a tête-à-tête with David Lindsay.
Philippa came dancing up stairs and into the room.
“There’s an army in the old house, and I am afraid they’ll rout the ghosts!” she exclaimed. “Just think of it! They have all the field negroes—who have not much to do outside at this season of the year, you know—in the house, busy scrubbing, scouring, mopping, sweeping, dusting and what not.”