It was a round tower, built of stone; its top came scarcely to the top of the surrounding trees, and it was in fact not more than two stories high; it appeared, with its wide girth, low and squat. Its sides were pierced here and there with deep and narrow slits, for windows, and on one side was a heavy oaken door, with great iron hinges and an iron lock. Through two or three of the upper slits in the wall glimmered a light from within. It was otherwise dark and forbidding.
Aunt Amanda found Ketch at her mule's head again. She leaned forward and said to him:
"Is that High Dudgeon?"
"No, ma'am. That's Low Dudgeon."
"Low Dudgeon? What do you mean by Low Dudgeon?"
Ketch looked at the tower and shuddered. "I don't like to talk about it, ma'am. I don't like the place. It's the place where we used to live long ago, before we built High Dudgeon. There's none of us wants to live there now. We haven't lived there since—" Ketch paused, and shuddered again, and evidently decided not to go on.
"There's a light up there," said Aunt Amanda. "Does anybody live there?"
"No, ma'am," said Ketch. "Nobody lives there."
"But there's a light," said Aunt Amanda. "Surely there must be somebody there."
"There is, ma'am; there is; thirteen of 'em."