“The kitchen must be just beyond, then,” said Laura, beginning to enjoy herself immensely.  “There’s a door, Mrs. Gilligan.  Look out—­don’t bump your head.”

But Mrs. Gilligan had no intention of bumping her head.  She swung open the door in question, and they found themselves in a butler’s pantry that seemed almost as large as Billie’s bedroom at home.

“Goodness! the Powerson that first built the house must have expected to entertain lots of company,” exclaimed Violet, looking with wonder at the rows of curtained cupboards.  “I wonder if there are dishes in all of them?”

“We haven’t time to look now,” said Mrs. Gilligan, stopping her as she was about to peep inside a closet.  “We can do all that to-morrow when we have daylight.  Ah, here’s the kitchen,” she added, as she stepped into a huge room—­the regular type of a very old kitchen that could be used as sitting-room as well.

“Gracious, it’s a house!” cried Billie, moving her candle about in an effort to light up the corners of the place.  “There isn’t any end to it.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to keep it clean as a steady job,” said Mrs. Gilligan grimly.  “Now, girls, let’s go back and find our two friends with the provisions.  I don’t know how you feel about it, but as for me, a little something to eat wouldn’t go at all bad.”

“We’re just starved,” they cried, and began a concerted rush back to the front of the house where their “friends with the provisions” were.

However, when they arrived there, they found the provisions spread upon the driveway but the man and boy had disappeared.

“Humph!” grunted Mrs. Gilligan, her mouth straightening to a grim line, “I had more than a notion that that old fellow would clear out, and of course the young one wouldn’t stay alone.  I shouldn’t have trusted them out of my sight!”

She began picking up bags and packages, and the girls followed suit.  Before very long they had gathered up all the provisions and were staggering back, arms laden, toward the house.

They found their way back to the kitchen again and dropped the things thankfully on the table.

“Now for something to eat!” cried Laura.  “What shall we have, Mrs. Gilligan?  I suppose it will have to be a cold supper,” she added, looking about for some means of cooking and discovering only an immense coal stove.

“I suppose it would take forever to make a fire in that,” said Billie, indicating the stove and thinking longingly of hot steak and potatoes, “even if they have any coal.”

“Here’s plenty of coal,” said Mrs. Gilligan, who had been finding things out in her own practical and efficient way, “and here is plenty of wood and old newspapers to start it going.  Indeed and we’re not going to have any cold supper,” she added, while in imagination the girls already were sniffing the aroma of broiling steak.  “Not after that long ride an’ cheerful conversation!”