Madge and Cara paused briefly to survey the place from the front, then walked swiftly around to the rear.
“We may get into trouble if we’re caught trespassing,” Cara ventured timidly.
“No danger of that when the owner hasn’t been heard from in years,” Madge returned, undisturbed. She rattled the back gate and was surprised to find it locked. “That’s queer. It was unfastened yesterday afternoon when I stopped.”
“It wasn’t locked last night,” Cara added with growing uneasiness. “Let’s not try to get in.”
Madge was not to be so easily discouraged.
“We can climb over easy as scat!” she declared.
“But if someone should see us?”
“Let them. At the worst, we can only be run out. Come on.”
She swung over the fence with an ease which her friend could not hope to duplicate. Still protesting, Cara permitted herself to be helped over.
Madge looked about the grounds with keen interest. A winding walk led to a tangled, overgrown rose garden. She saw a tiny cement pool, clogged with old dead leaves and sticks. Beyond, a sundial of peculiar design and construction, attracted her attention.