“Yes, I saw it—­a great blackened place.  Most likely he spilled some of his chemical stuff on it.”

Miss Sophonisba was not, as she expressed herself, one to let the grass grow under her feet.  She concluded the bargain for the house next day, and informed their landlord—­who, by the by, was a son of their old neighbor, Widow Ball—­of their intention to move.  That gentleman was not at all pleased at the idea of losing his tenants.  In vain he offered to recede from the obnoxious demand of four shillings more.  Miss Sophonisba told him that she had made up her mind, and that she wasn’t in the habit of going back from her bargains when she had given her word, whatever other people might be.

“Well, Miss T——­,” said Mr. Ball, “I hope you won’t repent.  They’ve said queer things about that house ever since the old doctor went off so mysterious.  Some folks said he drowned himself in that place in the cellar.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said Miss Sophonisba.  “The old doctor never hurt any one when he was alive, except by borrowing money of them, and it ain’t likely he’ll want to do that now that he’s dead; and if he did, I shouldn’t let him have it.”

“Well, my mother was in the house when Miss Eldridge came running up the stairs as pale as a sheet, and said he came behind her and caught hold of her shoulder.”

“Joanna Eldridge was always a poor, miserable, shiftless, narvy thing,” said Miss Sophonisba, “and half the time you couldn’t believe a word she said.”

“Well she was a connexion of our’n, Miss T——­, and I always thought there was something in it.  Narves won’t account for everything.”

“Well, I never trusted her a bit more for that,” said Miss Sophonisba.  “I know one time she told mother a long story about how you sent in a bill for shoes to Widow Sumner that James had paid you before he died, and she said you’d have made her a deal of trouble if she hadn’t ha’ found the receipt.  A good many folks talked about it, but I always said it was just one of Joanna’s stories.”

Mr. Ball was put down, and took his leave.

As soon as the necessary repairs were finished the sisters moved into the house, and during that summer found reason to congratulate themselves on their change of abode.  The high, airy situation was very pleasant in warm weather, and the view over the waters of the bay across to Boston and far out to sea, with the coming and departing ships, afforded much pleasure and a subject of conversation to the sisters.  Their little garden on the flat throve well, and was a source of never-ending interest.  They had been troubled by no ghostly visitations.  Miss Sophonisba had indeed once heard a mysterious noise in the cellar, but on going down stairs she found that the cat had jumped on the hanging shelf and was helping herself out of the milk-pan.