“Uncle says that one wing is a ‘reflectory’ and the other is a ‘refectory,’” Beatrice informed the four girls, while she conducted them on a flying trip over the entire place. “The old cloisters are the reflectory and the refectory is now our living-room, a sort of dining-room and drawing-room combined.”
The ancient dining-hall, however, was quite large enough for all its present purposes and could have accommodated a good-sized household with ease. The old carved black oak dining-table was lost in the vastness of the apartment. Suits of armor were ranged along the walls at intervals, and Billie was amazed to find that one or two of them were not a whit taller than she was herself. From a gallery running around two sides of the hall hung several faded battle flags. There were a few portraits on the walls of dark-haired, rather fierce-looking knights and their beguiling ladies, also dark-haired with gentle blue eyes. The only modern object in the entire room was a grand piano at the far end under a stained glass window.
“Beatrice, do we sleep in cells?” demanded Mary Price.
“Yes,” answered the English girl. “There are dozens of them opening on the galleries. They are just as they were centuries ago, rather small for sleeping-rooms, but, as Uncle says, it’s quite like camping out to come up here for a visit; and the cells are much larger than tents.”
“Are they haunted?” asked Mary.
Beatrice smiled mysteriously.
“People claim to have seen things,” she said, “but I never did. Almost every castle in Ireland has its banshee, you know, but it only appears before a death in the family.”
“And what is the banshee of Castle Abbey?” the four girls asked in an excited chorus.
“Now, if I tell you,” exclaimed Beatrice, her blue eyes twinkling with fun, “you will be afraid to go to bed alone, and you know there is only one bed to a cell and it’s a very small bed indeed!”
“Oh, please, please tell!” they cried.