"If you care to see the inside of the house I will be very glad to show it to you," she added pleasantly.
"Is—is it yours?" he managed to say, "or—or your sister's?"
She smiled. "You mistake me for somebody else. I have no sister. This is the old Brown place—a very, very old house. It belonged to my great grandmother. If you are interested I will be glad to show you the interior. I brought the key with me."
"But people—relatives of yours—are living there now," he stammered.
"Oh, no," she said, smiling, "the house is empty. We are thinking of putting it in shape again. If you care to come in I can show you the quaint old fireplaces and wainscoting—if you don't mind dust."
She mounted the step lightly and, fitting the key and unlocking the door—which he thought he had left open—entered.
"Come in," she called to him in a friendly manner.
He crossed the threshold to her side and halted, stunned. An empty house, silent, shadowy, desolate, confronted him.
The girl beside him shook out her skirts and glanced at her dusty gloves.
"A vacuum cleaner is what this place requires," she said. "But isn't it a quaint old house?"