are they?”
“Oh no,” Gwen said. “My mother thinks it would be a good idea. But Dad says it’s going to be a museum someday.”
“Why does he want it to be a museum?”
“Well, Dad belongs to this county historical society. It’s just a bunch of people who are crazy about all the old things around Santa Luisa. The older a thing is the better they like it. And the adobe part of Palmeras House is one of the oldest places in this part of the state. Dad wants it to be a museum of the early days in California. He already has a room full of old things that belonged to the McCurdy and Montoya families.”
“Does he keep the things there — in the old house?” Robin asked thoughtfully.
“Yes,” Gwen said. “When we moved out of Palmeras House, he had a lot of the best old things put in the library. He says that when the depression is over, maybe the county will fix up the other rooms and the house will become a museum.”
“Does he ever go over there — to the library, I mean?”
“Well, not much. Once or twice a year he has some of the women go over and clean everything, and he usually goes over then and looks around.” Gwen laughed. “Carmela hates to go because she’s afraid of the ghost.” All of a sudden she jumped up. “Hey,” she said, “we sure talk a lot. Last time we just talked about your family, and now we’re talking about mine. Let’s do something else. I know a place where we can catch tadpoles.”
That night, for the second time in a row, Robin had trouble going to sleep. She finally did drop off, only to waken again and again. She found her mind still sifting all the fantastic things she had heard and seen. After a while parts of dreams began to get mixed up with remembering, until it was hard to tell them apart.
In the dreams, Robin was back in Palmeras House wandering from room to room. Part of the time she was just Robin in a faded cotton dress and bare feet, moving through rooms that were empty and deserted. But now and then she seemed to be wearing a long dress with a heavy satin skirt, and all the rooms were full of lovely furniture and many dimly seen people who nodded and smiled at her as she passed.
Velvet Days
W HEN BRIDGET OPENED THE COTTAGE DOOR to Robin’s knock the next morning, she threw up her hands in surprise. “Don’t say a word,” she said. “I can guess. You’ve found how to use the key.”
Robin nodded happily. Bridget shook her head very slowly from side to side, but she was smiling. “I should have known it wouldn’t take you long,” she said. “You know, Robin, I’ve worried about giving you that key. I did it on an impulse, and afterward I wasn’t at all sure it was a wise thing to do. But I think now that it was all right. You should smile that way more often. It’s not right for a child your age to be so solemn.”
Robin could understand why Bridget might have worried. “Oh, I’ll be awfully careful,” she assured her. “I won’t hurt anything or forget to close the well or anything. I promise. And thank you, thank you very much.”
“Hush now,” Bridget said. “You’ve already thanked me, my dear. Just be careful that you don’t spend so much time there that your parents worry.”
“I won’t,” Robin promised. “They’ll just think I’m here with you. That’s what they thought yesterday.”
She picked up Betty’s chain and started for the shed, but then turned back. “Oh, I wanted to ask you,” she said, “that is…I was wondering if…did Mr. McCurdy give you the key to the tunnel?”
Bridget hesitated for a minute, but then she smiled. “Why, yes — that is true. It was Mr. McCurdy who gave the key to me.”
When Betty was staked out on a fresh patch of dry golden hillside, Robin headed for Palmeras House at a run.
The tunnel was just as long and dark as it had been the day before, and in a way it was even more terrifying. Although Robin tried to push back the subject of the ghost, her mind kept bringing
“Oh no,” Gwen said. “My mother thinks it would be a good idea. But Dad says it’s going to be a museum someday.”
“Why does he want it to be a museum?”
“Well, Dad belongs to this county historical society. It’s just a bunch of people who are crazy about all the old things around Santa Luisa. The older a thing is the better they like it. And the adobe part of Palmeras House is one of the oldest places in this part of the state. Dad wants it to be a museum of the early days in California. He already has a room full of old things that belonged to the McCurdy and Montoya families.”
“Does he keep the things there — in the old house?” Robin asked thoughtfully.
“Yes,” Gwen said. “When we moved out of Palmeras House, he had a lot of the best old things put in the library. He says that when the depression is over, maybe the county will fix up the other rooms and the house will become a museum.”
“Does he ever go over there — to the library, I mean?”
“Well, not much. Once or twice a year he has some of the women go over and clean everything, and he usually goes over then and looks around.” Gwen laughed. “Carmela hates to go because she’s afraid of the ghost.” All of a sudden she jumped up. “Hey,” she said, “we sure talk a lot. Last time we just talked about your family, and now we’re talking about mine. Let’s do something else. I know a place where we can catch tadpoles.”
That night, for the second time in a row, Robin had trouble going to sleep. She finally did drop off, only to waken again and again. She found her mind still sifting all the fantastic things she had heard and seen. After a while parts of dreams began to get mixed up with remembering, until it was hard to tell them apart.
In the dreams, Robin was back in Palmeras House wandering from room to room. Part of the time she was just Robin in a faded cotton dress and bare feet, moving through rooms that were empty and deserted. But now and then she seemed to be wearing a long dress with a heavy satin skirt, and all the rooms were full of lovely furniture and many dimly seen people who nodded and smiled at her as she passed.
Velvet Days
W HEN BRIDGET OPENED THE COTTAGE DOOR to Robin’s knock the next morning, she threw up her hands in surprise. “Don’t say a word,” she said. “I can guess. You’ve found how to use the key.”
Robin nodded happily. Bridget shook her head very slowly from side to side, but she was smiling. “I should have known it wouldn’t take you long,” she said. “You know, Robin, I’ve worried about giving you that key. I did it on an impulse, and afterward I wasn’t at all sure it was a wise thing to do. But I think now that it was all right. You should smile that way more often. It’s not right for a child your age to be so solemn.”
Robin could understand why Bridget might have worried. “Oh, I’ll be awfully careful,” she assured her. “I won’t hurt anything or forget to close the well or anything. I promise. And thank you, thank you very much.”
“Hush now,” Bridget said. “You’ve already thanked me, my dear. Just be careful that you don’t spend so much time there that your parents worry.”
“I won’t,” Robin promised. “They’ll just think I’m here with you. That’s what they thought yesterday.”
She picked up Betty’s chain and started for the shed, but then turned back. “Oh, I wanted to ask you,” she said, “that is…I was wondering if…did Mr. McCurdy give you the key to the tunnel?”
Bridget hesitated for a minute, but then she smiled. “Why, yes — that is true. It was Mr. McCurdy who gave the key to me.”
When Betty was staked out on a fresh patch of dry golden hillside, Robin headed for Palmeras House at a run.
The tunnel was just as long and dark as it had been the day before, and in a way it was even more terrifying. Although Robin tried to push back the subject of the ghost, her mind kept bringing
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