That's it. Do open some more blinds and a window. Fresh air don't hurt
anybody--unless it's spiders," with a glare at the loathed cobwebs.

The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. Grace
glanced about it curiously.

"So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah," she observed.
"How queer that seems."

"Um--h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be so
near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. Smell
of brimstone any, does it?" she asked with a smile.

"No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I wish I
could help. Look at the mud on the floor."

Keziah looked.

"Mud?" she exclaimed. "Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that come
here? Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n Elkanah's,
I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big enough for his.
Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his boots bear him out
in it, don't they? Those marks don't look broad enough for his
understandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else could. Here's the
settin' room."

She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut and
fragrant with camphor was dimly visible.

"Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment. "Well, we'll