“Why, certainly,” Judy began, but the short, stout man interrupted.
“It ain’t secluded enough for what we want,” he said to the driver. “What we had in mind was a place in the upper price brackets, not a tourist home.”
“We’ll have a look, anyway.”
But Judy had changed her mind about showing them the house and said so.
“I think you’ve made a mistake. My house isn’t for sale,” she informed them.
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the wind. It was almost moaning. Judy had never heard it make such a strange noise before.
“The place ain’t ha’nted, is it?” the stout man asked.
“It might be,” the third man said, and Judy couldn’t tell whether or not he was serious.
“Maybe we can find another place farther out in the country,” the short man suggested.
“You’re headed for a town right now,” Honey told them. “Roulsville is just a few miles below here. Then comes a long stretch of state forest land—”