“I’ve been invited to visit there this summer. Do you think I’d like it?”
“Well, it’s a pretty decent town for its size. Whom are you visiting?”
“Two sisters by the name of Gates. Azalea and Iris Gates. Did you ever hear of them?”
“Gates? Let me think. Oh, sure, I remember their place. It’s right at the edge of town.”
“What kind of a house have they?”
“Oh, it’s as big as a barn. Old and rambling. It seems to be a sort of mysterious place.”
“Mysterious?”
“I don’t know anything about it myself, except that I’ve heard folks say there is something queer about it. The neighbors call it ‘Locked Gates.’”
“Why that name?”
“I suppose it’s because the double front gates are always kept locked. A fence surrounds the garden, and vines grow so thick on it you can’t get a glimpse inside. Take my advice, Doris, and don’t go there for a visit. It would give you the creeps!”