TheBeans, the Kilpatricks, and the Jessups might as well have taken their houses with them so far as the Mulvaneys were concerned. Mr. Bean's father and mother were to live in their vacant house. The Kilpatrick home was rented to an old couple related to the Beans, while the residence of the Jessups was to be torn down.
Cornelia Mary and Sally drove slowly homeward after their first experience in country house-hunting.
"Now what do you think?" inquired Cornelia Mary, giving the reins an impatient jerk.
"I think—" began Sally, "well, I think we got left."
That remark made the girls laugh. Having laughed the prospect seemed less dismal.
Illustration of weather-beaten house
"POINTING TO A DILAPIDATED WEATHER-BEATEN STRUCTURE ALMOSTHIDDEN FROM VIEW"
"Wasn't it too bad about the Jessup house?" Cornelia Mary resumed. "It was so tumbled down the rent couldn't be much and they might have got along somehow. Was it a great deal worse than the house they live in?"
"Worse," echoed Sally, "it was sixty hundred times better. Why, the Mulvaneys live in a little bit of a black old shanty—" Sally stopped suddenly, then exclaimed in excited tones, "A house! A house! Whoa!"
"A house?" questioned Cornelia Mary, looking into the sky as if expecting to see it drop from the clouds.
"Right there!" continued Sally, pointing to a dilapidated weather-beaten structure almost hidden from view by overgrown bushes and old weed stalks.
"Giddap," laughed Cornelia Mary, "trot along. Why, Sally, you gave me such a start. I am sure I know now how Columbus felt when the mariners shouted land."
"But it's a house," insisted Sally, "and no one is living in it. Whoa, horse! Make him stop, Cornelia Mary, I want to get out. Who owns that house and why is it empty?"
"All right, whoa, Bess! Climb out, Sally, you shall see the house, that is if you can reach it without tearing your dress. Wait a minute while I tie the horse to this tree."
"But it's deserted!" Sally exclaimed, "and the windows are all boarded up; we can't see much. Who owns it? Let's go for the key?"
"No one will ever live in that house again," declared Cornelia Mary. "To begin with, it's the oldest house in the country and the man who built it lived in it for a long time. Then he built a new house and his hired man lived here. After that a great many different families rented it; then for years it was empty. One time a crazy man, whose folks owned the mill, broke in the house and said he was going to stay there until he died. The owner said let him have his own way as he was harmless, and if the family would supply his wants he might have the house rent free."
"And did he live here all alone way back from the road?" asked Sally, gazing curiously about the place.
"Yes, and they say he was happier thanhe ever was in his life before; he kept chickens and pigs and had gardens—why, Sally, there is a regular wild flower garden here every summer to this day, and the man's been dead since long before I was born."
"And hasn't anybody lived here since?" asked Sally.
"Of course not."
"Why?"
Cornelia Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, folks are queer about some things, Sally. I wouldn't stay all night in this house for anything, myself, not for anything."
"Why not?"
"Well, don't you see, the old fellow was crazy, and sometimes he used to sing and howl all night long."
"But, Cornelia Mary, he's dead now, and this is a good, big house. It would be a palace for the Mulvaneys. Who owns it?"
"The same man who allowed the poor old lunatic to have it for a home. He's queer, too. I never said anything but 'good morning,' or 'how do you do' to him in my life."
"Where does he live?"
"Oh, just a little way from here around the next corner on the Bay Shore road."
"What's his name?"
"Welcome Hodgkins."
"Oh, he's the Hodgkins district, is he?"
"No," laughed Cornelia, "not exactly, although his ancestors gave the district its name. I tell you he's a queer old fellow—the only Hodgkins left in the country. I really shouldn't like to call on him, but we'll do it if you think the Mulvaneys would live here, and if you'll do the talking."
"Well, come on then," said Sally.
"Oh, Sally, but my heart is set on teaching school this summer; I do hope they'll come. Yes, I'll go with you to see Mr. Hodgkins. We'll walk. He has the best farm in the country but I tell you he's queer; nobody ever goes to see him. He lives in that large white house straight ahead."
"But, Cornelia Mary, the blinds are all closed. I don't believe he's at home."
"That's nothing, Sally, he lives alone in the back of his house. I told you he was queer."
"Where's his wife?"
"Dead, years ago."
"Glad to see you, come in," said Mr. Hodgkins, opening wide his kitchen door, at the girls' timid knock.
The man's eyes were so kind and he smiled so pleasantly Sally liked him.
"We've come on an important errand, Mr. Hodgkins," she began. "It's about Cornelia's school. Unless you will help us, Cornelia Mary can't teach school this summer."
"Indeed?" questioned Mr. Hodgkins. "I shall certainly be pleased to do all in my power to assist the young lady."
Sally told him the story of the Mulvaneys. When she finished speaking there was silence for a moment. "Guess he is queer," thought Sally. Mr. Hodgkins's first remark was unsatisfactory, to say the least.
"Oom—um—I dunno," he murmured.
"Is it about the rent?" Sally inquired.
"Ooom—um," replied Mr. Hodgkins.
"Unless you wanted too much money," continued the child, "I think she could manage it. She has to pay rent where they live now."
At that Welcome Hodgkins found his voice. "It's the children," he confessed. "They could have the house and welcome, but I can't say as I relish having the young savages raising Cain on my farm."
"It seems to me they could be trained," faltered Sally.
Something in her tone troubled Welcome Hodgkins. "Come with me and see the house," he suggested, "and we'll consider the matter."
For the first time in years spring sunshine streamed across the threshold of the lonely dwelling among the bushes. Once more the old rooms echoed a childish voice and footsteps from the outside world.
"It's not a bad sort of a house after all," remarked the owner, having lighted the lamp he carried. "Musty and damp now to be sure, but it's roomy and might easily be repaired. Well, I dunno, let them come and if they misbehave, we'll train them."
"Mr. Hodgkins, you're an awful nice man, and Mrs. Mulvaney'll say so too, when she gets my letter."
"I don't know how to thank you," added Cornelia Mary.
"Well, children, here's the key. I'll unboard the windows any time you give the word. I'm thinking, Miss Cornelia Mary, that you and I will have our hands full this summer. Good day."
"Isn't he a nice man?" whispered Sally, as Welcome Hodgkins sauntered homeward.
"Oom—um—I dunno," was the response. "I still think he's queer."