She stopped to grasp the strange situation. It was unbelievable. That a house like that, with artistic green shingles resting on a veritable vase of concrete should be left idle and condemned.
“Swell!” breathed the inexhaustible Marty. “An’ dad did all that. Look at that foundation!”
She was looking at it all. Trying to understand the blight, and Nature’s blunder.
“No wonder Aunt Hattie risked it!” she said. “This looks too good to be any risk at all.”
“Don’t it!” Marty was dangling the key. “They’re dubs—them health fellows. Water in the cellar ain’t so bad. We often have it.”
Shadows warned them. “We better hurry,” said Gloria. “I’m so excited. I wonder shall we find the fairy keeping house?”
“Nope. Fairies don’t like inspectors, I guess, and this house gets inspected every time the health fellows think of it. We go in the front door,” grandly. “I’ve got matches an’ a candle, too.”
“It won’t get dark?”
“The cellar’s dark and that’s the curiosity.” Not even a shove was necessary to open the quaint door. It swung back gladly as Gloria stepped within. She breathed and gasped a little, then smiled broadly and threw Marty a look of complete satisfaction. He was watching for it. He wanted to see how surprised she would be and he withheld his impatient questions.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured.