Carolan stared a little at him too, but there were other things to stare at in Mrs. Orland's drawing-room, because it was such a wonderful place, and Mamma's mamma had lived here once, when she was Carolan's age, which made it a very exciting place to be in.

Mrs. Orland talked to them very brightly while they ate seedcake and drank their milk. She talked of lessons, but that was not to Carolan who was too young to know much about them, but to Charles chiefly, occasionally bringing in Margaret. Carolan did not mind being ignored; she was quite happy; she loved seedcake and the milk was delicious, and on a stand near her chair was a fascinating ornament which represented a woodland scene; it was set on a wooden stand, and there was a glass shade over it. It was wonderful. There was green moss and some trees, and on one of the branches a real stuffed bird. When she pressed her face close to the grass she could imagine she was standing under the trees, and that her cottage was not far away, and that her dogs would come leaping out at her from behind those trees. Mrs. Orland was saying: "Would you like me to take off the glass shade?”

Carolan had no words to express her delight. One plump finger stroked the bird's feathers.

"Pretty, pretty pretty!" cooed Carolan.

Such a baby, thought Mrs. Orland, although sometimes she had the air of quite a sophisticated young person!

Margaret was standing near Everard, saying shyly: "Everard, please show me your books; I do want to see your books!”

Everard almost scowled, but Mrs. Orland said: "Take Margaret to your study and show her your books, Everard.”

Everard said: "I do not want to Mother. I...”

"Everard. Margaret is your guest!”

Everard went very red, and led Margaret ungraciously towards the door.

"And when you have seen them, you may join the others in the garden.

And remember ... not too much noise. Papa is writing his sermon.”

Carolan said: "Is he always writing sermons?”

But no one answered that, and she supposed he was, because whenever she was at the rectory she was always told to be quiet on that account, and she could not imagine the rectory unless she herself was there.

"Now, Charles, suppose you take your little sister into the garden and show her the nice flowers until the others come down. You would like to see the nice flowers. Carolan?”

Carolan would have liked to stay with the wood on the stand, but Charles was eager to escape from the restraint of Mrs. Orland's drawing-room.

"Come on, Carolan!" he cried, just as though he really wanted to show her the flowers, so that Carolan thought he had changed suddenly, and liked her after all.

It was lovely in the garden.

"Who wants to see her old flowers!" said Charles, but he said it in quite a friendly way, and Carolan laughed because she had always really wanted to be friendly with Charles.

"Do you want to see her old flowers, Carolan?”

"No," said Carolan.

"Nor do II' He laughed as though it were a great joke and Carolan laughed too because she was never sure about jokes, and always laughed when she thought there was one.

Charles led the way to the end of the garden, and at the end of the garden was a low stone wall__and beyond the wall was the graveyard.

"They look funny, those gravestones!" said Charles, and he laughed; so, thinking it was another joke, Carolan laughed too.

Charles was being very nice this afternoon.

"See me leap that wall!" he cried, and did so.

"You could not do it!" he challenged.

She knew she could not, but she tried. He stood on the other side of the wall, laughing at her, but not in a spiteful way.

"You are too little, Carolan; you will be able to when you are bigger.”

"I wish I was bigger!”

"Oh... you will be one day. Give me your hand and I will help you over.”

She scraped her knees getting over, but it was exciting being on the other side of the wall. She liked it. The gravestones were like ladies in grey cloaks, but they did not frighten her; the sunlight glinted on them, making them sparkle, showing her that though they might look like people they were only stones after all. How she loved the great blazing sun up there. It was such a comforter; she was not afraid of very much when she felt that to be close by.

"See if you can catch me," said Charles, and he walked quickly amongst the gravestones.

"I walk!" he called over his shoulder.

"You run. That is what you call handicaps, Carolan. Oh ..." For she had nearly caught him. Carolan shrieked with delight; she forgot all the unkind Charleses she had known, and remembered only the kind one who had helped her scramble over the wall and let her play touch with him in the graveyard. She caught him and they stopped, laughing, by the side of what to Carolan looked like a little house covered in ivy.

"Do you like it?" asked Charles. She shook her head.

"It is like a little house," she said, 'but it has no windows. I like windows.”

"Do you know what it is ?”

"No.”

"It is what we were talking about... you know... a vault... It is our family who live in there our dead grandpapas and grandmammas and uncles and aunts ...”

"Oh!" said Carolan.

"Walk, and I will catch you.”

"Later on perhaps," said Charles.

"Now I am going to look in there.”

"But you must not.”

"I can if I want to, and I do want to.”

He tried the door, but it was locked, and she was filled with relief.

"You cannot," she said gleefully.

"Carolan, you would be afraid.”

She stoutly denied it. She could do so happily, for how was it possible to go through a locked door?

He said: "Carolan, if that door were open, would you go in? I would, I would want to go in.”

"So would II' He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a key. She stared at it in dismay and horror.

"But Charles ... How can you have a key... for that?”

He took her hand; he held it lightly just as though they were friends.

Then he opened the door; there was a short flight of steps that led down into darkness.

He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Papa keeps the key," he said.

"I have seen it often in a drawer in the library with other keys. I took it because I wanted to see what it was like in here. You do too, Carolan. You said so!”

She was silent. It was a different world in there; it was damp and it was dark and there was none of her well-loved sunshine to defy the darkness.

"Come on." said Charles. He was excited; he had meant to enjoy this adventure with Everard, so he had taken the key and hidden it in his pocket. He was almost sure once that Jennifer had felt it there, but she had said nothing so she could not have noticed it; and then her words in the carriage had made him see the possibility of another adventure with Carolan instead of Everard whose years made him inclined to be superior.

He took Carolan's hand, and she descended the stairs with him reluctantly.

"What an odd, nasty smell!" she said, and her teeth began to chatter.

"Earth and worms and dead people!" said Charles. That is what you smell." His voice was shrill with excitement. Now Carolan's eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness; they were standing in what was like a room, very cool and quiet, she thought.

"On the ledges," said Charles with his mouth close to her ear, 'are the coffins. Oh, does it make your flesh creep, Carolan?”

"No!" lied Carolan.

"But I like outside best.”

"But you wanted to come, Carolan. You said you did.”

"Yes, but we have been. I can catch you; you cannot walk faster than I can run.”

"Would you be scared to stay down here all night. Carolan?”

"I would not stay here all night.”

"But if you did ...?”

Her show of courage deserted her; she made for the steps.

"Listen!" said Charles.

"What was that?”

She stood still; she could hear nothing but the wild beating of her own heart and Charles's breathing. He caught her shoulder suddenly; he gave her a little push backwards; her fingers touched the clammy wall.

She shrieked, and then horror silenced her, for Charles had leaped up those steps and had shut the door on her. She scrambled up the steps as fast as she could, but the door was already closed. Now there was no comforting light at all... nothing but the damp darkness. She beat her fists on the door.

"Let me out! Let me out! Please ... please let me out!" There was no answer. She went on beating her little hands against the heavy door.

She found the lock. She pushed, she kicked. But Charles had locked the door; he had taken away the key.

Carolan shut her eyes tightly and pressed her face against the door; she felt that a thousand horrors were rushing up the steps after her; she waited for something terrible to happen. She went on waiting.

Nothing happened but the awful stillness pressed in en her, and the cold damp darkness was more unendurable than anything else could have been.

She could not keep her eyes closed for ever; she must open them.

Fearfully she looked over her shoulder. She could just make out the dark entrance to the room; she turned and pressed her back against the door, her eyes fixed on the entrance to that room. Whatever was coming for her would come from that direction, she knew. She remembered the stories she had heard whispered by the servants; Jennifer had told her some horrible stories about dead people. Would they be angry with her for venturing into their home? She had lied; she had said she was unafraid, believing she would not be called upon to prove her lack of fear. Jennifer said liars went to hell; but what was hell, compared with this dark home of the dead?