Another voice interrupted.

“Shut up!  Belay!” it ordered.  “If there’s anybody or anything in this house we’ll have a look at it, that’s all.  You can go to the minister afterwards, if you want to.  Just now you’ll come along with me if I have to haul you by the neck.  Let’s see what’s in here.”

There was a flash of light in the crack of the door leading from the dining-room.  That door was thrown open and the light became a blaze from a big lantern held aloft.

“Hey!  What!” exclaimed the second voice.  “Who—­women, by the everlastin’!”

Mrs. Barnes and Emily clinging to each other, blinked in the lantern light.

“Women!  Two women!” said the voice again.

Thankful answered.  The voice was real and it came from a human throat.  Anything human—­and visible—­she did not fear.

“Yes,” she said, crisply, “we’re women.  What of it?  Who are you?”

The man with the lantern entered the room.  He was big and broad-shouldered and bearded.  His companion was short and stout and smooth-faced; also he appeared very much frightened.  Both men wore oilskin coats and sou’westers.

“Who are you?” repeated Aunt Thankful.

The big man answered.  His sunburned, good-humored face was wrinkled and puckered with amazement.

“Well,” he stammered, “I—­we—­Humph! well, we’re neighbors and—­but—­but, I don’t know as I know you, ma’am, do I?”

“I don’t know why you should.  I don’t know you, fur’s that goes.  What are you doin’ here?  Did that depot-wagon man send you?”

“Depot-wagon man?  No, ma’am; nobody sent us.  Kenelm—­er—­Mr. Parker here, saw a light a spell ago and, bein’ as this house is supposed to be empty, he—­”

“Wait a minute!” Miss Howes interrupted.  “Whose house is this?”

“Why—­why, it ain’t anybody’s house, ma’am.  That is, nobody lives here.”

“But somebody used to live here, it’s likely.  What was his name?”

“His name?  Well, old Laban Eldredge used to live here.  The house belongs to Captain Abner Cahoon’s heirs, I believe, and—­”

Again Thankful interrupted.

“I knew it!” she cried, excitedly.  “I wondered if it mightn’t be so and when I see that picture of Uncle Abner I was sure.  All right, Mr. Whoever-you-are, then I’m here because I own the house.  My name’s Barnes, Thankful Barnes of South Middleboro, and I’m Abner Cahoon’s heir.  Emily, this—­this rattle-trap you and I broke into is the ‘property’ we’ve talked so much about.”

CHAPTER III

Emily said—­well, the first thing she said was, “Oh, Aunt Thankful!” Then she added that she couldn’t believe it.

“It’s so,” declared Mrs. Barnes, “whether we believe it or not.  When you come to think it over there’s nothin’ so wonderful about it, after all.  I had a sneakin’ suspicion when I was sittin’ here by you, after you’d gone to sleep.  What I saw afterwards made me almost sure.  I—­Hum!  I guess likely that’ll keep till we get to the hotel, if we ever do get there.  Perhaps Mr.—­Mr.—­”