“No!” Rena said again, grasping Irene’s arm as she was seating herself in the wooden rocking-chair, with its faded chintz-cover and frill.
Irene stared at her impatiently; then catching Mr. McPherson’s look of inquiry, she said, with a laugh:
“I believe Rena is superstitious about sitting in chairs which have not been used for so long.”
“It isn’t that,” Rena answered. “I hardly know what it is. I want to get out of this room, which seems so full of the dead.”
She was very white and Reginald, who was near her, said to her:
“I think it is grewsome, too. Let’s go out.”
He put his hand on her arm and led her into the hall, followed by the others, Mr. McPherson bringing up the rear with Irene. As he was a little deaf himself he always talked rather loud, and as they were going down the hall he said so distinctly that we all heard him:
“It was Sandy’s wish that his room should be kept as it is. I hope Rex’s wife will respect his wishes. She can have any other room in the house.”
What Irene’s answer was I could not hear, but that it was satisfactory was proven by Mr. McPherson’s hearty:
“Thank you, I was sure you would feel that way.”