Miss Denison caught sight of a severe frown and a bit of expressive pantomime signifying that she was to hold her tongue, from her older and more discreet companion.
“How is that?” asked the young lady. “Do you think this house is haunted?”
“Of course not, ma’m,” broke in the elder. “Susan you ought to be ashamed of yourself, telling such silly stuff. Of course, ma’am, when a house lies empty some time there’s all sorts of tales gets about, and I daresay if you hadn’t come and taken it, in another year there’d ha’ been a whole lot of ghost stories and such-like about it.”
Miss Denison saw that there was nothing to be learnt here, so she asked no more questions, but waited eagerly for the arrival of Mr. Brander. At last, from the position she had taken up on the steps outside the front door, she heard the clergyman’s voice and the sound of wheels and hoofs at the same time; a few seconds later the cart, again piled with furniture, stopped at the door, and Mr. Brander, springing down from his place beside the driver, held out a helping hand to the third person in the cart, who proved to be no other than Lucy. Instead of jumping out with her usual activity, however, the little maid hung back in the most nervous manner, and finally had almost to be lifted out of the vehicle, uttering words of protest in a hoarse whisper.
“Lucy! Why, what’s the matter with you?” asked her young mistress, kindly, perceiving by the light of the lantern the clergyman carried that the bright red color had left the girl’s round cheeks, and that her eyes were distended with some absorbing horror.
“Nothing, Miss Olivia—nothing,” stammered she, faintly. “I—I went out to look for you. I thought you might have lost your way—and—and——”
“As Eben and I were driving down the hill we met her, and, finding that she was looking for you, Miss Denison, I made her get up and come on with the luggage.”
He did not look at Lucy, neither did she look at him, and in the course of the work of unloading and furnishing in which they now both proceeded to take an active part, Olivia could not help noticing the ashy paleness that came over the maid’s face, and the way in which she shrank into herself if accident brought her in close contact with the gentleman. The installation now went on merrily. To Olivia’s great relief Mr. Brander, contrary to Sarah Wall’s prediction showed not the least reluctance to enter the old house, but went backwards and forwards between the cart and the big room until there was nothing left to bring in.
“We haven’t brought nearly enough furniture to fill this big room, you know,” he explained, as he trundled in a roll of carpet. “The cart would only hold just sufficient to make you a little oasis at the fireplace end; but it’s better than the bare boards, and to-morrow we’ll hope you’ll have your own thing’s about you.”
“Oh, Mr. Brander, I can’t thank you,” said Olivia, overwhelmed. “You have built a palace for us in the desert; but what will the vicar say? He will come back and find that you have ransacked his beautiful house on behalf of two utter strangers! I shall never dare to look Mrs. Brander in the face after taking part in such a sacrilege.”