"Take care, Helen. Romance does very well in books, but it is a
mischievous thing to mix up in the real concerns of life."

"My dearest May, I shall never want a skull to grin ghastly lessons of
morality at me, while I have you," replied Helen, with a scornful laugh.

"Pardon me, Helen; I fear that I do say too much; but let my good
intention be my excuse," said May.

"Yes, it is intolerable. My old Tartar of an uncle swearing and scolding
down stairs, and you preaching and praying, up. It is more than human
nature can bear.--Where are you going?"

"To confession," replied May, in a low tone.

"Very well; but, my dear 'wee wee woman,' don't stay long, for I believe
this rambling, musty old house is haunted."

"Come with me, then?"

"Not to-day; I have an idea of exploring it, and should like, of all
things, to get into the very room which Blue Beard keeps locked up. Is
there any possible way of getting in?"

"Yes."

"How? tell me, quick!"

"Ask Uncle Stillinghast for the key," said May, while a flash of
merriment lit up her eyes.