"I'll wait outside the door. It's too stuffy in here."
Penny stood on the sagging porch until her father returned with the lighted lantern. The bright beam illuminated a wide circle of barren kitchen. An old cook stove occupied one corner of the room; there was a plain table with four chairs and a make-shift sink with old-fashioned pump. The floors were without carpet or linoleum. Every piece of furniture was covered by several inches of dust.
"Wait until I see that man Kilkane!" said Mr. Nichols indignantly. "Why, the electricity hasn't even been turned on. We can't live in a place like this!"
"Let's look at the other rooms, Dad."
There was no dining room, as the builder evidently had intended that the occupants should eat in the kitchen. The living room had a large fireplace but no other item of comfort. The three chairs were all straight-backed, the carpet was moth-eaten and dusty, and a small table still bore a vase filled with shriveled flowers which someone had forgotten to throw away.
"Come along, Penny," said Mr. Nichols starting toward the door. "We'll not stay here."
"But where will we go?" Penny placed a detaining hand on his arm. "There's no hotel in the village."
"It would be more pleasant sleeping in the car."
"You know we'd be stiff in every muscle if we tried that, Dad. Let's open a few windows. It won't seem so bad then."
Mr. Nichols raised several windows and they were then able to breathe more freely. An inspection of the adjoining bedrooms left them somewhat encouraged. The mattresses were fairly soft, and Penny found clean linen in one of the bureau drawers.