It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John andmyself secure ancestral halls for the summer.A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say ahaunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity-butthat would be asking too much of fate!Still I will proudly declare that there is something queerabout it.Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood solong untenanted?John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that inmarriage.John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience withfaith, an intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly atany talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down infigures.John is a physician, and perhaps-(I would not say it to aliving soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great reliefto my mind)-perhaps that is one reason I do not get wellfaster.
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