“Then it is to be hoped that you have some nice and interesting neighbours,” I said. “Near us there are so few young people.”
“And there are not many near Millflowers either,” said Isabel; “at least not within a good long drive. I hope you would not find it dull. There are interesting walks, if you care for wild, rugged scenery. The village itself is quite tiny. There is only one house of any importance besides the vicarage and ours, and that is—no good,” she added, rather abruptly.
“Why not?” I inquired. “Is it uninhabited?”
Isabel hesitated.
“No,” she replied. “The same people have lived in it for a great many years. They were there before father came into possession, on my uncle’s death. But—” and again she paused.
My curiosity was aroused.
“Do tell me about them,” I said.
“Well, yes, I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” answered Isabel. “Father always tells us not to gossip about the Grim House, but you are sure to notice it when you come, so I may as well prepare you beforehand.”
“The Grim House!” I exclaimed. “Is that the real name? Do tell me all about it. Is it haunted? It must be.”
“No,” said Isabel, shaking her hood. “It isn’t haunted. At least I have never heard that it was. The real name is ‘Grimsthorpe’—Grimsthorpe House or Hall, I am not sure which; but it is always called ‘The Grim House,’ and has been, papa says, ever since he can remember. And it seems to suit the present inhabitants and the strange mystery there is about them.”