The children finished their story.
“Oh, it’s the Pumpkin right enough,” said Glan. “Now what can have happened. Old Nancy must have forgotten the usual sunset spell.... No, no, she’d never forget ... she’s never forgotten. There must be foul play somewhere. We must go to her at once and see what’s happened. Come!”
And followed by the two children he hurriedly crossed the road to the little cottage opposite, and rapped loudly with his knuckles on the door.
CHAPTER IV
Why Old Nancy Slept through the Sunset Hour
There was no sound from within the cottage, and the three waited impatiently for a second or two, then Glan rapped again more loudly. The sound of his knuckles against the little brown door rang sharp and clear in the quiet of the evening. They waited. Glan called “Nancy!” and “Is any one in?” but as there was still no answer he lifted the latch, and discovered that the door was unbolted. He pushed it open.
They found themselves in an old-fashioned, low-ceilinged room, full of shadows cast by the flickering firelight. The trees outside the house excluded the faint sun-glow, so that the room was dim and nothing could be clearly defined in the farther corners. A quaint red-brick fireplace took up nearly one side of the room, and in a chair by the hearth there sat a huddled-up figure.
“Nancy! Old Nancy!” said Glan, breathlessly, stepping further into the room. “What’s the matter, Nancy?”
The figure remained motionless. He bent over it, shaking it gently by the shoulder.