"No use crying over missing chocolate," said Mollie. "We're here, under shelter, anyhow; and we can keep dry. Now if we can find anyone at home we'll beg their hospitality for the night. Maybe they can get us a meal—if we pay for it."
"There's no one living in this house—I'm sure of that!" declared Amy. "Smell the musty odor—and—see——" she pushed open a door leading from the hall, and directed Betty's hand so that the lantern flashed inside. The room was bare and empty. "No one at all," she insisted. "The house is deserted."
"Well, so much the better," declared Grace. "That is, if there are no—no——" she did not finish, but looked around rather apprehensively.
"Ghosts—say it!" commanded Betty, sharply. "The oftener you use the word the less it will frighten you."
"Look here!" exclaimed Mollie. "I don't believe we're in the—the haunted house at all."
"Why not?" demanded Grace.
"Because this isn't at all like the kind of a house a millionaire would build. It's—common. You can see for yourselves."
It did indeed seem so.
"But we were close to the end of Shadow Valley, where Kenyon's Folly was built," insisted Grace, "and we turned in nearer to it when we took that cross-road. I'm sure it's the place."
"Well, it's a queer thing to be insisting that you are in a haunted house," remarked Betty, "but I am beginning to believe now that we are not. At least I agree with Mollie that this doesn't look at all like the place called Kenyon's Folly."