now, and were passing the door of the mill itself.
“That’s a funny old place,” Billy observed. “Does any one live there?”
“People lived in it a good while after it had stopped being used as a mill,” Sally said, “but it is empty now. Would you like to look in?”
The big timbered door was fastened only by an iron latch, so there was no difficulty about pushing it open and peeping in. The whole of the lower floor was one great room, with a crooked flight of rickety stairs at the back, leading up to the second story. The windows were small, making the interior full of shadows and very cool and dark after the hot sunshine outside. There was a big fireplace of rough stones, a bench near it, a table and a broken chair or two, with a three-legged stool in the chimney corner.
“Jacky and I come here to play sometimes,” said Sally, “although he doesn’t like it much. People used to say it was haunted, but of course that’s nonsense. Still it is pretty dark and queer and rather too full of strange creakings when you are alone.”
They closed the door again, went down the
