‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. He must be gone to dispose of the body. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. ” He was silent for a moment or two. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla.
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