"But it's a house," insisted Sally, "and no one is living in it. Whoa, horse! Make him stop, Cornelia Mary, I want to get out. Who owns that house and why is it empty?"
"All right, whoa, Bess! Climb out, Sally, you shall see the house, that is if you can reach it without tearing your dress. Wait a minute while I tie the horse to this tree."
"But it's deserted!" Sally exclaimed, "and the windows are all boarded up; we can't see much. Who owns it? Let's go for the key?"
"No one will ever live in that house again," declared Cornelia Mary. "To begin with, it's the oldest house in the country and the man who built it lived in it for a long time. Then he built a new house and his hired man lived here. After that a great many different families rented it; then for years it was empty. One time a crazy man, whose folks owned the mill, broke in the house and said he was going to stay there until he died. The owner said let him have his own way as he was harmless, and if the family would supply his wants he might have the house rent free."
"And did he live here all alone way back from the road?" asked Sally, gazing curiously about the place.
"Yes, and they say he was happier than he ever was in his life before; he kept chickens and pigs and had gardens—why, Sally, there is a regular wild flower garden here every summer to this day, and the man's been dead since long before I was born."
"And hasn't anybody lived here since?" asked Sally.
"Of course not."
"Why?"
Cornelia Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, folks are queer about some things, Sally. I wouldn't stay all night in this house for anything, myself, not for anything."