"My goodness!" Isabel exclaimed. "Nobody can ever live here again."
"Don't be discouraged," laughed Rose. "Soap, water, sunshine, and fire can accomplish miracles."
At the end of the hall a black, empty fireplace yawned cavernously. There was another in the living-room and still another in the library back of it. Isabel opened the door on the left. "Why, there's another fireplace in the dining-room," she said. "Do you suppose they have one in the kitchen, too?"
"Go in and see, if you like."
"I'm afraid to go alone. You come, too."
There was no fireplace in the kitchen, but the rusty range was sadly in need of repair.
"I'm going down cellar," Rose said. "Are you coming?"
"I should say not. Hurry back, won't you?"
Rose went cautiously down the dark, narrow stairway. The light was dim in the basement but she could see that there was no coal. She went back and forth several times from bin to window, making notes in a small memorandum book. She was quite determined that Aunt Francesca should be able to find no fault with her housekeeping.
When she went back, there were no signs of Isabel. She went from room to room, calling, then concluded that she had gone back to the carriage, which was waiting outside.